The Return
by Harmony Slytherin
Summary: COMPLETEThey thought they were safe. They thought the terror was over. They were wrong. And now, will Grace have to pick up where her parents left off and claim the Dark Mark as her own? Sequel to Never Turn Back
1. Prologue

A/N Hey everyone! Welcome to the prologue to Silver and Gold. This is the sequel to Never Turn Back. I highly recommend that you read NTB first, but if you want to be confused, go right ahead, it's no skin off my nose.  
  
For those of you returning: THANK YOU!!! I'm looking forward to another good fic. This is the second in this trilogy. It's about the next generation, but I promise I'll write some Ron for you guys. The prologue is really short, and it probably won't make much sense, but on the other hand, did the other one?   
  
Also: MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!! (I'm posting this on Christmas Day 2002, for the record) tootles, and have fun with the story.  
  
  
  
  
Silver and Gold  
By Harmony Slytherin  
Part II of the Emperor's Dagger Trilogy  
  
  
Prologue:  
The Princess  
  
The people of Imperial Parsel were happy. They were happy because the Emperor was happy. He was happy because his daughter was happy. Princess Annabella was happy because of Salazar Slytherin.  
  
He was older than her, but not much older. At seventeen, however, Annabella was considered more than old enough to marry. She didn't know what she liked about Salazar, a tall mysterious man in his twenties with black eyes and black hair, so contrasting to her golden curls and cornflower eyes.   
  
Salazar Slytherin had come into her life about a year ago. Her father had hired him to come during the summer to teach her magic. He had opened a school with three others in Scotland five years ago, but her father would not let her go there. Instead, he made Salazar come to them.  
  
She had thought about him all through the dreary winter months, and when she saw him again in June, her spirits had flown. She was an infatuated teenager. However, Annabella had known better than to give her father any hint. If she did, he would pierce Salazar with his dagger, killing him as he had so many others.  
  
She remembered that day in July when it had happened. They were walking through the gardens surrounding the palace, and Salazar was lecturing on which plants could be used in potions. She didn't pay attention. Her blue eyes were fixed on his face. She didn't remember who had kissed whom, only that they had.   
  
It was October now, and Salazar had left her and returned to Hogwarts in Scotland, but he would return. He HAD to. They had to get married, or her father would kill them both.  
  
Princess Annabella of Imperial Parsel was carrying the son of Salazar Slytherin. Little did Princess Annabella of Imperial Parsel know; Salazar Slytherin was already married.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A young boy sat up, shaking to remind himself that he was safe in his bed. The boy was four years old, with auburn hair and dark brown eyes.  
  
He leapt out of bed and tore out of his room and to his mother's door. He flew into her room, and shook her awake. He had had another dream about the Emperor and the princess. That meant the bad man was coming. They had to leave.  
  
His mother grabbed the bare necessities, then flew from the house. Just in time, the boy knew, because behind he could see the dark people attacking the tiny house. The boy started to cry. This meant they had to move away, and change their names again.  
  
The boy's real name was Charlie, and his mother's name was Grace. They had barely escaped the fear that had haunted them across the globe for the last four years. 


	2. Potions

Chapter One:  
Potions  
  
~Be a good boy  
Try a little harder  
You've got to measure up  
And make me prouder~  
  
Alanis Morissette's "Perfect"  
  
  
Perfect. Everything around him was perfect. Too perfect, almost. Sitting in his best friend's parlor with his wife, his sister, her husband, and, of course, his best friends. They were pleasantly discussing the weather, drinking tea, and being...well...normal. Everything was abnormally perfect.  
  
Outside, Ron could hear the laughter of children. His daughter Grace was out there, with Angel and Philip Malfoy, and James, Elizabeth, Luke, and little Anna Potter. James, Grace and Angel were off by themselves in one corner of the Potters' backyard, giggling and whispering. Meanwhile Elizabeth, the second eldest Potter, was lecturing her younger siblings and Phil on something pertaining to dandelions. Ron watched smiling through the window.  
  
His mind was in a kind of daze, only half awake. He watched as the three oldest kids condescended to join the younger children. He wasn't paying enough attention, however, to realize an argument had broken out. Before he knew it, all seven of them had tramped inside.  
  
"What is going on here?" Hermione demanded, looking angrily at the mud that had accompanied the kids' trek inside.  
  
"Dad, didn't you fight the Dark Lord?" Philip Malfoy pouted at his father. Draco's eyes widened.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You fought the Dark Lord," Philip repeated. "You and Mum. Didn't you?"  
  
"Nuh-uh!" Luke Potter argued. "My dad killed the Dark Lord! Your dad wasn't even there!"  
  
"Yeah!" Anna Potter, only three years old, agreed angrily. She didn't know what was going on, but someone was yelling at her brother.  
  
"My dad was!" Grace Weasley argued.  
  
"But our dad killed him!" Elizabeth Potter countered shrilly. Grace, not having any siblings, turned to her cousin Angel Malfoy for support.  
  
"My dad gave Uncle Ron a dagger, and Uncle Ron gave it to your dad!" Angel said haughtily to Elizabeth, who glared up at her and stood on tiptoes in an attempt to appear taller.  
  
"So?" She said, looking at Luke.  
  
"Yeah, so?" Luke agreed.  
  
"So...my dad's better than yours!" Philip shrieked, coming to his sister's defense. This brought cries of outrage from the Potter children, and answering howls from Angel, Phil, and Grace. James, the oldest Potter and best friend of Grace and Angel, remained neutral, looking at his mother for support.  
  
The six adults had watched the exchange with interest, but things were now starting to get out of hand, as Luke and Philip threatened to start physically fighting.   
  
"All right. ALL RIGHT!" The voice was Draco's. He immediately brought silence. Phil looked down shamefully, and Luke, suddenly realizing what he had been saying, looked petrified. "Now, you seven are being quite foolish. Angel, Philip, I expected more out of you." He let his words sink into his children's heads before continuing. "Now, I think you all need to go back outside."  
  
"But Dad," Phil objected sullenly. "We want to know what happened."  
  
Those words brought utter silence, and the adults now exchanged nervous glances. They didn't want to remember, and they had tried to shield their children from the hatred of their pasts. The children remained quiet, each watching the reactions of their own parents. The four Potters, even toddling Anna, watched silently as Harry and Hermione exchanged nervous looks, paling at the memory of that November night ten years ago when Ron had crawled through the mud to their door and they had discovered the Dark Mark burned into his skin. Angel and Phil anxiously watched as Draco's face, now turned to stone, looked to Ginny, who was biting her lip nervously. Grace stood alone, watching her parents. Rayven had closed her eyes and put her face in her hands. Ron however...Ron did nothing. He just stared straight forward, not blinking, his lips turning white from pursing them so hard.   
  
"They are old enough..." Ginny said nervously. "Angel and Grace and James will be going to Hogwarts next year, and-"  
  
"Absolutely not," Ron interrupted severely, and all seven kids shrank back at his voice. "I refuse to tell that story to children."  
  
"Ron, they will find out eventually, from us or other sources," Rayven pointed out logically.  
  
"At least take Anna away, Hermione," Draco said, looking down at the innocent toddler. Hermione rushed to do just that. The other six looked imploringly at their parents.  
  
"It all began-" Harry started.  
  
"NO!" Ron interrupted, leaping to his feet. "I refuse to let this happen. Rayven, Grace, we are leaving. Let the rest of them stay and-"  
  
"No, Ron, we are not going anywhere," Rayven said, softly but firmly. "Grace is ten years old now, she needs to learn the truth."   
  
"I strictly forbid-"  
  
"But I want to know, Daddy," The soft voice of Grace Weasley interrupted. "I'm old enough." Ron looked down into his daughter's face, and her innocent gold eyes looked back. He opened his mouth to repeat his decision, to forbid that she ever find out about what had happened, to protect her from the world. But Rayven, Draco, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione were staring, knowing that what he said now would dictate their decision. His eyes traveled to those of Angel and Phil, James, Elizabeth, and Luke. They would have to know someday. He sighed, and fell down.  
  
"Fine," He replied. "Let them know."  
  
  
  
"Hello? Helloooooooooo? Earth to Ron!" Ron shook himself out of his reverie to find Draco Malfoy's hand waving in front of his face. He was sitting in the Potter's parlor with Rayven, Ginny, Draco, and naturally Harry and Hermione. Outside it was pouring down rain. Everyone was looking at him curiously.  
  
"Er...sorry," Ron muttered. "So, how're the Cannons doing, Harry?" Harry jumped at the chance to answer, and Ron plunged into the conversation, pushing the memory out of his mind. It had been nearly six years since that fateful day, here in this very parlor, when Ron's daughter had learned the Truth. Grace was now in her fifth year at Hogwarts along with Angel and James. Elizabeth was in fourth year while Luke and Phil were in second. Anna was only nine years old, and was at the moment at Lavender and Seamus Finnigan's house visiting their daughter Parvati.  
  
Meanwhile, over a hundred miles away, Grace Weasley, James Potter, and Angel Malfoy were sitting down to lunch.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Are you absolutely SURE we're not going to get caught?"  
  
"What? You scared?"  
  
"I am not scared, just cautious."  
  
"Same thing!"  
  
"Is not!"  
  
"Is too!"  
  
"HONESTLY!" The exclamation came from the lips of a beautiful young woman with bright red hair and sparkling silver eyes. Her name was Angel. Her two friends spun around sheepishly. One was a boy, a tall young man with impossible brown hair and big green eyes: James Potter. The other was a girl who could've been Angel's twin. The same height, fiery hair color, and complexion led many to believe they were twin sisters instead of cousins. The only way people could tell the difference between Angel and Grace was their eyes. Grace's were a deep, mysterious gold.  
  
"Sorry," James muttered rolling his eyes.  
  
"Yeah, Ang, what're you trying to do, get us caught?"  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," Angel replied haughtily. "I was just trying to get you two to stop flirting."  
  
"We were not flirting!" Grace and James cried in mortification at the same time. Angel grinned.  
  
"Could've fooled me," Angel grinned.  
  
"What are you three up to now?" The three friends jumped as they realized they were having this conversation in the Great Hall, and turned to see Stephen Thomas, better known as Steve, studying them curiously.  
  
"Nothing," The three replied simultaneously.  
  
"Yeah, right," Steve replied, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, can I borrow your Potions book Gold?"  
  
"Sure," Grace replied, not batting an eye at the use of the nickname her classmates had given her. Angel was Silver and she herself was Gold. Why this was she wasn't exactly sure. Their eyes, of course, had something to do with it, but there was also the fact that Grace and Angel, along with being cousins, were also best friends and there was something that just flowed in saying the names together: Silver and Gold.  
  
In any case, it was a normal April afternoon at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where Albus Dumbledore still ruled as Headmaster. He looked down the High Table to where Minerva McGonagall sat, still ready to punish any who crossed the lines of the rules. Flitwick, Binns, and Trelawny still taught their classes. Professor Sprout had sadly retired, but Neville Longbottom had taken over as Herbology Professor. Remus Lupin was once again the Defense teacher, Severus Snape was still Potions Master and life ran in the castle the same as it had for the last thousand years.  
  
Dumbledore's eyes traveled down to the students. The Slytherins sat in tight groups of no more than four, whispering together. The Hufflepuffs sat very close to one particular friend, but open to the entire table, chattering happily. The Ravenclaws were holding debates of some sort, with one large group against the other. And then, of course, came the Gryffindors. Evenly spaced and open to all the people of their house, the loudest laughter came from Dumbledore's own old house. It did not take him long to spot the new Trio, as two of the three had trademark Weasley red hair. James Potter sat across from the girls, laughing. For a moment, Dumbledore could've sworn he was back in time to the days of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, or maybe even the Marauder years.  
  
He shook his head. No, this generation had a personality all its own.  
  
Lunch was over almost as soon as it had begun. Or so it seemed to the students. They were eager for their afternoon classes to end so they would be set free for the weekend. James, Grace, and Angel left the Great Hall together as they had almost every day for the last five years.   
  
"Well, well, well, if it isn't Potter, Malfoy, and Weasley. Haven't they kicked you out of this school yet?" The three friends spun around angrily at the familiar voice. It belonged to a dark haired young man with heartless blue eyes and a mocking sneer.  
  
"Haven't you dishonored the name of Hogwarts long enough, Flint?" Grace snapped, pushing James out of her way and advancing toward her archenemy. She had always hated Damian Flint with a passion. James and Angel grabbed the back of her robes.  
  
"What? Afraid I'll hurt your ickle little girlfriend, Potter?" Flint taunted. James flushed almost as darkly as Grace did.  
  
"She is NOT my girlfriend!" He hissed.   
  
"Oh?" Flint replied. "Is it Malfoy this week then?" All three were enraged, and they would've tackled him. But...  
  
"Children, what is all this fuss?"  
  
Grace stopped short feeling her heart stop. She would've recognized that icy voice anywhere. Averting her gaze from Damian, she turned her golden eyes to his older, taller, and even more detestable brother, Thomas Flint.  
  
The two brothers looked the same, but at the same time...they didn't. Damian was short and stick thin, with a sallow face and thin, sharp features, cruel azure eyes and slick, deep brown hair. Thomas, however, was taller, and while still lean was much more muscular than his sickly looking sibling. He was actually rather good looking, with proudly cut features and a well-shaped nose. His hair was black, so black it looked blue sometimes, and fell pleasantly into place no matter what happened. And his eyes...many of the young girls at Hogwarts said Tom Flint had eyes to die for. They were the color of melted chocolate, steady and strong, and they never changed; no matter what color he wore or how the light was reflecting or what his mood was his eyes remained steady, taking in the world, and (in Grace's humble opinion) formulating evil plans behind an iron wall of melted chocolate. Grace Weasley hated Tom Flint's eyes.  
  
"We're only one year younger than you, Flint," James reminded him angrily. Angel remained silent. Grace glared at the brothers. Flint (the elder, that is) cocked an eyebrow.  
  
"Really? You were acting like a group of bitter first years," He replied smoothly.  
  
"Yeah, children," Damian smirked.  
  
"I was referring-" Tom continued in a voice like ice and moving his unwavering gaze to his younger brother, "To all of you."  
  
"But-"  
  
"Mr. Flint is quite right," Another voice interrupted. All of them (except for Tom, who had seen him coming) turned to find Snape looking down at them. "Now, children," He emphasized the word with relish. "Don't you think you ought to...run along?"  
  
James and Angel had to literally drag Grace to Transfiguration to prevent her from punching or slapping or...doing SOMETHING to Severus Snape. She really hated him sometimes. She knew he had helped her parents during the rise of Voldemort, but that didn't change the fact that he was an evil, homework obsessed, biased Slytherin git!  
  
Damian left the scene soon after, finding that without the Gryffindors to taunt there really wasn't much to do. Snape looked down at Tom fondly.  
  
"I appreciate that, Mr. Flint. I'm quite tired of breaking up fights between them."  
  
"It's no problem, professor," Tom mumbled. Snape nodded knowingly.  
  
"Get to class, Mr. Flint," He said. Tom nodded, but took his time in getting to Arithmancy, and considered skipping it entirely. He hadn't been lying when he implied that he considered his brother infantile. Honestly, Tom hated the Gryffindors too, but there were much more efficient ways of going about destroying people's lives that teasing.  
  
Rolling his eyes, he strutted into Arithmancy five minutes late.  
  
Finally, the students were set free for the weekend. They poured out of their classes chattering and laughing loudly. Grace, Angel, and James were whispering like guilty conspirators, trying to stifle their giggles behind their hands.  
  
"What are you three up to NOW?" An exasperated voice asked. They jumped guiltily and turned to face...a short young girl with curly brown hair and inquisitive cinnamon eyes.  
  
"Liz!" James exclaimed at the sight of Elizabeth, his little sister. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Trying to see if she can catch you in the act of something stupid so the Ravenclaws will take the lead again, most likely." A new voice added. Grace looked down and saw James's younger brother, Luke, making a face at his sister. Liz just grinned.  
  
"It's not my fault you Gryffindors are so reckless," She replied, flipping her hair.  
  
"Liz, may I remind you that its four Gryffindors versus you, the only Ravenclaw present?" Grace said, trying not to laugh.   
  
"This is a good point," Liz replied, sighing. "Where's Phil when you need him?"  
  
"What, who called my name?" A short Ravenclaw boy with blond hair and brown eyes appeared.   
  
"I spoke too soon," Liz murmured.  
  
"That sounded like an insult Mizz Liz," Philip Malfoy said smoothly. Liz just rolled her eyes. Angel laughed at her younger brother's words.  
  
"Come on, guys," She said lightly. "Let's not worry the perfect little Ravenclaws." At that, Phil and Liz stopped glaring at each other to glare at the Gryffindors, who just laughed and went down to dinner. Luke went off with some second year friends, and the three were alone again at last.  
  
They pretended to go to bed that night, as if it weren't any different. Of course, those that knew Silver, Gold, and James could tell they were up to something, but then again, they always were. They met back in the common room just after midnight. James had his father's invisibility cloak and Marauder's Map in hand. Angel and Grace were in a frightful fit of giggles, and James had to wait for them to calm down before they could begin the long and dangerous journey down to the Slytherin common room.  
  
It was the first time they had actually been brave enough to go inside the common room. Angel had somehow managed to get the password (she was good friends with the head girl), so they decided that they couldn't let such a perfect opportunity go to waste. At this point, they had only their prayers to protect them from Mrs. Norris and Filch.  
  
They stopped at the prefect's bathroom. Grace was elected to go inside and collect the potion. All three were prefects, so it wouldn't be too suspicious if just one of them was seen entering the bathroom, as long as no one saw her coming out with the steaming potion in hand. It went off without a hitch.   
  
None of them spoke; they didn't need to. James walked in front, leading the way with the Map as his guide. Grace came next, walking very carefully so as not to spill a single drop of the potion, and Angel followed, her keen eyes and ears alert. The cloak covered them all, she knew, but one could never be too cautious.  
  
They made it to the common room with no major problems. They did see Mrs. Norris, and had to stop and wait for her to leave the corridor, but other than that they ran into no one. They reached the wall they knew to be the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Angel boldly stepped forward.  
  
"Turntable," She whispered. The door slid open.  
  
"Turntable?" Grace asked, making a face. "Who uses 'turntable' as a password?"  
  
"Shh," James hissed, trying not to laugh himself. Taking a deep breath, the three walked through and got their first glimpse of the Slytherin common room.  
  
It was really rather a disappointment.  
  
The room was smaller than that of Gryffindor, with a lower ceiling. The embers in the hearth was dying, and over the fireplace was a single portrait of Salazar Slytherin. The chairs didn't look very comfortable by Gryffindor standards, and they were a dark, dreary green with intricate and expensive looking silver designs. The floor was covered with a large green carpet, and while there were a few hangings on the stone walls, they were mostly bare. There was only one very small window at the top of the left wall, and it seemed to be there to remind one how enclosed you were instead of offering a view of the outside.  
  
"Ugh," Grace muttered, summing up the opinion of her two friends. However, they didn't have long to sit and stare in disgust. The longer they stood, the more chance they would get caught.  
  
It didn't take them long to find the fifth year boy's dormitory. Once inside, James quickly spotted Damian Flint's pale face, looking no different in sleep as it did awake. Grace wondered, briefly, if he was as nasty in his dreams as his was in waking life. She shook her head then turned to her friends, who nodded.  
  
They slipped out from under the shelter of the cloak, and Grace suddenly felt very vulnerable. If any of the boys woke up now, they would be in big trouble. All the more reason for speed. The potion was still in its liquid form at the moment, and could do absolutely nothing except taste horrible. However, it was time to add the final ingredient. Angel plucked a hair off her head and put it in the potion. It went from a clear deep blue to light pink, and immediately took on the consistency of lotion. Grace nodded, to assure the others that everything was going according to plan, and approached Flint's bed.  
  
This was the most delicate part of the procedure. It had been assigned to Grace because she was the best at Potions, and therefore probably the only one of them who actually knew what they were supposed to do with potions not meant to be ingested. She dipped her hand into the cool smooth substance, and took a deep breath. If he woke up now, she would probably be expelled.  
  
She then started applying the potion to his face, smearing the pink substance over his cheeks and forehead while murmuring an enchantment under her breath. His skin absorbed the substance, and in less than a minute the entire cup was gone. Grace stood, and the three of them started for the door.  
  
"What are you doing?" A mumbled voice asked, the three spun around in terror to see one of the larger boys, who had been snoring very loudly, turn to face them. Their minds had not even begun to react when he continued. "Two cups of baking powder, not three...umph," His snoring returned and Grace let out a breath in relief. He had been talking in his sleep.  
  
About baking powder. Okay, then.  
  
They flew from the room, and though the put the cloak on, they were making far too much noise than was prudent. They ran past Peeves, who just cackled but didn't try to stop them. When they reached the common room they fell on to the floor, laughing from the adrenaline and knowledge of what was going to happen in the morning.  
  
Damian Flint wasn't at breakfast the next day, but he dorm mates and those that had seen him on the way to the hospital wing spread the word like wildfire. Grace, Angel, and James did a high five when they heard the news.  
  
The Gender Changing Potion had been brewed properly after all!  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Hey, Silver, where were you last night?" Grace asked as Angel walked into the room and feel onto the sofa, looking exhausted.  
  
"Nowhere special," She mumbled.  
  
"Sure," Grace rolled her eyes. "Probably out sneaking with your boyfriend!" Angel laughed, throwing a pillow at her cousin.  
  
"Gold, I only WISH I had a boyfriend, as you should know." Both girls started giggling.  
  
It was the first week of May, and although every adult from Dumbledore to Madame Hooch knew Angel, Grace, and James were guilty for the crime of turning Damian flint into a female for two weeks, however they didn't have any proof whatsoever. As a matter of fact, they all seemed to (secretly, of course) find it quite amusing, except (obviously) Snape, who was even crueler to them in class than usual in the last month.  
  
"Although," Angel continued, her silver eyes dancing with mirth. "I know who you WANT to be your boyfriend, eh Gracie?"  
  
"Angel Marie Malfoy!" Grace exclaimed, her cheeks turning the color of her hair. "I told you I got over that!" Angel only laughed.  
  
"Yeah, sure, I see the way you look at him." She continued to tease. "Gracie and Jamsie, sittin' in a tree-"  
  
"Angel, someone's going to hear you!" She hissed, her cheeks even darker. Angel laughed so hard she nearly fell out of her chair.  
  
"Gold, everyone in this damn school knows you're in love with James Potter. And everyone knows James is in love with you. Why don't you just-"  
  
"Don't be ridiculous, Angel," Grace interrupted fiercely. "James likes that Ravenclaw girl...what's her name? Er..."  
  
"Oh that Victoria chic?" Angel rolled her eyes with a scoff. "Please, Grace, that will never happen."  
  
"How do you know?"   
  
"Because I do!"  
  
"You do what, Silver?" A voice interrupted. Both girls jumped to see James covered from head to toe in mud from being out in the rain for Quidditch practice.  
  
"Nothing," Grace answered for her cousin. Angel rolled her eyes, and James raised an eyebrow.  
  
"If you say so, Goldie," He said. Then he lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper. "It is time."  
  
"Time?" Grace asked, making a face. "Time for what?"  
  
"Time for the final ingredient," James continued.  
  
"For what?" Grace asked, even more confused.  
  
"Grace!" Angel hissed. "What are we brewing...right now...in the shack...?"  
  
"OH!" Grace exclaimed, hitting her forehead with her hand. "Duh!"  
  
"Tell me about it," Angel said, rolling her eyes. "How could you forget?"  
  
"So wait..." Grace's eyes flooded with understanding as she turned back to James. "The Potion is ready?"  
  
"I checked before practice," James replied. "We're supposed to add the final stuff at the new moon, which is tomorrow night. We can take the cloak and go through the Whomping Willow and go out to the shack, and take it from there." His green eyes were burning with an eager flame, and Grace felt herself getting caught up in the excitement.  
  
"Yes!" She cried, leaping to her feet and doing a little jig. "We are so cool!"  
  
"And modest too," Angel said sarcastically, but she was grinning nonetheless. "You know if we get caught we'll probably get sent to Azkaban or something?"  
  
"That's why we're not going to get caught," Grace said, rolling her eyes as if this should be obvious. Angel looked as if she were about to say something but as she saw James nod in agreement she decided it was pointless. She left James and Grace to argue about... something. She had stopped paying attention. She let herself slip into a daydream about the night before.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
It's not like an interior decorator had visited the shrieking shack or anything, but at least the rotting wood and broken furniture had been either removed or replaced, and it was somewhat clean. Grace surveyed their hang out with approval from her position halfway through the trapdoor. They had done pretty good, considering what they had to work with.  
  
"Uh, Grace, you want to get a move on up there?" Angel snapped from below. "While I'm young, if you please."  
  
"Sorry," Grace blushed, hurriedly ascending the last few stairs and scuttling aside to let James through. He turned around and held out a hand to help Angel, who smiled even though she didn't mean it.  
  
There was only one object in the room that looked out of place, and that's where Grace's gaze was immediately directed. It wasn't the object itself, really, it was the fact that a bright blue sheet covered it. Grace immediately ran over and through the sheet off, revealing a giant copper cauldron. Anxiety written all over her face, she studied the potion within for a few moments, then sighed with relief.  
  
"It's okay, we're not going to die," She announced.  
  
"You say that like you thought we would mess it up," James replied, looking hurt. Grace just rolled her eyes. Filch had decided to give her detention last month on the night they had to add the latest ingredient of the potion, of all the bloody nights. She had no choice but to leave it to Angel and James, and (considering their Potions grades) she had been mortally afraid that they would screw it up.  
  
"Have you no faith?!" Angel cried dramatically, striking a pose. Grace laughed.  
  
"No, not really. But it's okay, you guys didn't mess it up...this time..."  
  
"This is the most important time, so it's okay," Angel replied in a business like manner as she set down the small red velvet bag she had been carrying. The invisibility cloak and map had come from James's dad from his trouble making days. The last item in their mischief making kit was descended from Angel's father. It was a bottomless bag.  
  
They used it to carry...practically everything. When Angel had received it the summer before third year she had initially intended to carry her books in it. However, James and Grace had managed to talk some sense into her, pointing out all the mischief they could pull with a bottomless bag no one knew about. Tonight, she pulled three goblets, a ladle, and a small but sharp knife from the unknown depths.   
  
Grace took the ladle, and as if performing a sacred ritual, filled the goblets. James and Angel remained silent, watching her every move. The potion resembled honey in all but consistency. However, providing the ingredients the taste was probably a far cry from honey.  
  
Grace then picked up the dagger and locked eyes with her two best friends. "After this it's too late to turn back. You guys ready?"  
  
"Yes," They replied solemnly. Grace nodded.  
  
"I'll go first. Then Angel, then James." With that she held her left hand palm up over the first goblet and took a firm grip on the knife with her right. Closing her eyes she slashed the knife across her palm, the gritted her teeth against the pain. She forced her eyes open, and carefully tipped her hand to that the blood spilled only drip by drip into the goblet. She counted thirteen drops, then quickly pulled her hand away and handed the knife to Angel and turned to magically heal her hand.  
  
Angel and James both repeated the process. The potion the goblets now contained was a deep, rich red the color of wine. Taking a deep breath, Grace raised her goblet.  
  
"Well, at least the hard part's over with," James commented. Grace laughed and Angel grinned, both relieved that their friend had broken the heavy atmosphere with something so light-hearted.  
  
"Okay," Grace said, regaining her self-control. "On the count of three we all drink, okay?" James and Angel nodded, and Grace took a deep breath. "One...two...THREE!" In perfect unison the three friends tipped the goblets and chugged the evil tasting contents.  
  
Grace felt her insides tangle in knots and turn to lead. She fell to the ground, twitching. She had never felt pain like this before. And then...  
  
It stopped. Suddenly, Grace felt perfectly comfortable, more comfortable than she had in years, she opened her eyes, and noticed everything was bright and clear, the details were so sharp it nearly hurt her eyes. She knew she could see distances she couldn't have hoped to before. Eagerly, she looked down at her own body to see the results of months of toil. She squealed in delight.  
  
She could hardly believe they had done it. They were animagi! And even more unbelievable was what she had become. According to the ancient spell, your animagus form was a balanced mixture of who you really are and who you wish to become. Grace had expected to be a cat, or maybe a monkey of some kind, but never...  
  
A phoenix.  
  
She looked over at her friends, and if she had been in human form she would've laughed. They had amazed looks on their faces, looking around and trying to get used to their new bodies. She could immediately tell which one was which. James was flapping his powerful new wings, and his eagle form looked up and their eyes met. Turning, he saw Angel, who stood towering above them on all four legs. She was looking delighted...or, at least, as delighted as a unicorn can look.   
  
Grace tried to speak, and gasped (or...whatever it really was, seeing as she was a phoenix) with delight as she heard a beautiful, soft note come to her ears. As if just to show off, James let his wings out to their full span and took off, flying right through the window. Grace heard him squawk, and decided she wasn't about to let him think he was so cool. She spread her wings, and took flight.  
  
She let out a note of pure joy. There was nothing...NOTHING like flying. She had never really liked broomsticks or Quidditch. It had never occurred to her what flying as a bird would be like. Now, she knew. She flew out into the night, letting the May wind whip around her. She caught up with James and they soared through the sky together. The feeling now flowing through her was not entirely flight related.  
  
Grace heard galloping from below. She and James looked down to see a streak of brilliant white following them. Grace stopped and turned, singing out a note. Angel halted abruptly and reared onto her hind legs, kicking the sky.   
  
They spent over an hour just out flying (or, in Angels case, galloping) around the edge of the village, before Grace realized they needed to get back to the castle. She led them back to the shack and landed gracefully next to Angel. James followed. Grace closed her eyes and pictured the girl she saw everyday in the mirror. When she opened her eyes, she was human again. She turned to Angel and James, who were also in their ordinary forms. For a moment, they just stared at each other. As usual, it was James who spoke first.  
  
"That," He said, "Was the coolest thing ever!"  
  
"Definitely," Grace agreed, nodding. Angel gave a giant grin.  
  
"C'mon guys...we've got class tomorrow."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"I can't believe the year's over already," Grace whined, adding her last pair of shoes to the trunk.  
  
"I know what you're saying, Gold," Angel sighed. "So much has happened this year."  
  
"Like our whole little...animal thing?" Grace asked, smiling wickedly. Angel through a pajama top at her as a signal to shut up. Grace just laughed, tossing the top back to her cousin. She waited patiently for Angel to replace the shirt, and they went down to the common room together.  
  
The room that night was a mixture between the younger students thrilled to be going home for holidays and the seventh years looking around as if they thought the room would just up and disappear. They immediately spotted James in the corner of the room. His chessboard was out.  
  
"There you are, girls!" He cried as they walked over to him. Grace saw one fourth year boy shoot James a jealous glare, and held back laughter. James had once been voted Gryffindor's Biggest Pimp. The other boys didn't seem to understand that he was only interested in Angel and Grace as friends. Oh well, if it kept obnoxious teenage boys away, all the better.  
  
"Chess?" Grace said, raising her eyebrows at James.  
  
"Of course chess!" James cried. "I will beat you yet, Grace Weasley."  
  
"You wish!" Grace exclaimed in indignation. She had never lost a chess game to anyone other than her father her entire life. She fell into the chair across from James and looked over at Angel, who was shaking with repressed laughter.  
  
"What?" They demanded at the same time.  
  
"You two are just so blind sometimes," Angel said with a smile.  
  
"Care to open our eyes?" Grace asked sarcastically.  
  
"Not really, no," Angel replied. Grace stuck out her tongue, and Angel laughed. "I'll leave you to beating James miserably at chess, Grace. I've got some seventh year friends I want to say goodbye to."  
  
"Fine with me, I'm not your mother," Grace shrugged. She then turned to face James. Angel just rolled her eyes and went through the portrait hole.  
  
"Her and her seventh years," Grace rolled her eyes. James just laughed and directed his first pawn. For a few moments, the chess game continued in silence.  
  
"So, we're going into sixth year," James commented. Grace snorted.  
  
"Thank you for that report, Captain Stating-The-Obvious."  
  
"Hey, I was just saying!" James said defensively. "I mean, think about it Gold. We've only got two more years of school left."  
  
"Yeah," Grace said, and suddenly she felt as if she were graduating tomorrow. Only two more years? Where had her life gone? What had she done with it?  
  
Grace knew she needed to do something with her life. She always felt so...useless. Look at what her parents had done! They had practically defeated the Dark Lord themselves, braving death and pain and torture to do what they thought was right. That's what Grace wanted to do. Well, not that exactly, but something bold and dangerous and exciting to fight for what's right.   
  
Her mind wandered to breakfast of that morning. She had had a rather nasty encounter with Flint...Tom Flint, that is. She dislike Damian in the extreme, of course, but there was just something sinister about Thomas Flint that made her hate him. She was convinced he was evil. She vowed, then and there, to bring down Tom to justice.  
  
"Uh, Grace?" James interrupted. "It's your turn."  
  
"Oh...right," Grace murmured, and returned to the present.  
  
Perhaps Grace should've listened to the old adage: Be careful what you wish for, it might come true. Perhaps then she wouldn't have had to learn it the hard way...  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Once safely out of the common room, Angel's pace gained speed. She was a prefect, so technically she wasn't out after hours...yet. Still, she didn't want to be seen.  
  
She slowed outside a portrait of a sleeping fairy. She coughed several times before the fairy opened her eyes. "Password?" The fairy asked, letting out a yawn.  
  
"Hurricane," Angel murmured. And fairy nodded and went back to sleep as her portrait opened much the same way that of the Fat Lady did for Gryffindor tower.  
  
She slipped into the room beyond. It was a cheery room, about the size of one of the dorms. There was a fire cackling in the grate. There was nothing on the table or anyone on the two stuffed chairs. However, someone did rise from the sofa.  
  
"You're late," He said, smiling down at her.  
  
"I know. I was packing," Angel replied smiling.  
  
"And trying to sneak off," He added, giving her a sideways grin as he slipped his arms around her waist.   
  
"Yeah, that too," She laughed, looking up into his eyes. She loved his eyes. She sighed.  
  
"What?" He asked.  
  
"We're not going to see each other all summer!" Angel cried. He laughed.  
  
"Going to miss me?" He asked mischievously.  
  
"Yes I will. And don't laugh, it's not funny!" She cried.  
  
"You're right, it's not funny," He replied, and although his laughter was quieted his eyes were still dancing. "I'm going to miss you too, Angel. I would come see you anyway, but your father..."  
  
"Sometimes I hate all this sneaking," Angel said bitterly, falling onto the couch.  
  
"Just say the word," He replied, sitting next to her. "I'll tell everyone if it's what you want."  
  
"No," Angel sighed again. "We already talked about this. It's too dangerous. You're father would kill you. Literally."  
  
"Hey, if that's what you want..."  
  
"You dying would NOT make me happy!" She cried in horror. He laughed, and she realized he was kidding. She gave him a look.  
  
"I bet you think you're funny, don't you?" She asked. He just kept grinning. She repositioned herself so that her head was on his shoulder, and she felt his arm encircle her waist. She snuggled against him, feeling perfectly safe in his arms. For a few more moments, they just gazed into the fire, lost in their own thoughts.  
  
"You could tell Grace and James," He finally suggested. Angel looked up at him in amazement.  
  
"You hate them!" She cried. He shrugged.  
  
"They're your friends. They make you happy. If they like you they can't be all bad. I blame all this hating of me on your parents brainwashing all three of you. No offense to your parents or anything," He added quickly. Angel just laughed.  
  
"No, I think it's the same way. We can't tell them, though, they'd...I don't know what they'd do and personally I don't care to find out any time soon. They hate you, and I can't understand why. If they knew you like I know you..." Angel looked up into his melted chocolate eyes and smiled. "They would love you."  
  
"I love you too," He smiled. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, Tom Flint pulled her into a kiss. 


	3. Summer Holidays

Chapter Two:  
Summer Holidays  
  
~Be a good boy  
Push a little farther now  
That wasn't fast enough  
To make us happy  
We'll love you just the way you are  
If you're perfect~  
  
*Alanis Morissette's "Perfect"  
  
  
"Hey Mum!" Grace cried, waving through the crowd toward her parents. She ran over and threw her arms around her mother. Angel and James had followed her, seeing as their parents always wound up standing together in a little group.  
  
"I missed you so much!" Rayven said, giving her daughter a large squeeze. Grace felt her cheeks flame.  
  
"Don't embarrass the girl!" Her dad cut in, grinning. She gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek, and turned to her aunt, uncle, and godparents. They had to wait for Phil, Luke and Elizabeth to join them before leaving. Anna attacked her older siblings with ferocious hugs and complaints about not enough letters. Luke whispered a promise of some sort, and Grace personally thought she didn't even want to know what he had said.  
  
"Hungry?" Uncle Draco asked, looking around at the brood of children. It was obvious from the looks on Phil and Luke's faces that they had eaten quite enough sweets on the way home, but the others leapt at the chance for dinner.  
  
"You're all coming over for dinner," Aunt Ginny declared, smiling fondly at the children and the adults as well. "Come along, we want to give Angel and Grace as much time together as they can muster." She winked at her daughter and niece, who exchanged high fives before following their parents out of Platform 9 3/4.  
  
Grace practically squealed with delight. Finally, summer holidays!  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Ryan Webster?" Her father said, raising an eyebrow skeptically. "Who is this Ryan Webster?"  
  
"He's going to be a seventh year! He's in Gryffindor, he plays Keeper on the Quidditch team and I absolutely MUST go to this party or I'll die!" Grace declared to her parents. Ron looked unmoved, but Rayven had to hide her laugh in a napkin. Her daughter was SUCH a teenager sometimes!  
  
"How do I know there won't be bad things at this party?" Her father insisted.  
  
"Daddy!" Grace whined. "Angel and James will be there. Ryan's parents are going to be home. Don't you trust us?"  
  
"Of course, sweetheart," Her father said. "It's this Webster boy I don't trust." A look of horror spread across his face and he said quickly, "He's not your boyfriend, is he?"  
  
"NO!" Grace replied with a look of disgust. Ron let out a sigh of relief and Rayven continued to chuckle. Looking up and seeing the desperation on her daughter's face she turned to her husband.  
  
"Oh Ron she's sixteen. Let her go to the party."  
  
"What?" He cried, turning to Rayven. "You're on her side now?"  
  
"Don't be ridiculous dear," Rayven continued amiably. "This is about sides, its about letting Grace go to this harmless little party where she can see all her friends. Stop acting like a melodramatic stage Papa and lighten up. We were teenagers once, you know."  
  
"Don't remind me," Ron rolled his eyes. He got a look from both women and threw up his hands in defeat. "Fine! Far be it from me to interfere with my daughter's life. Go ahead; go to your party. But you had better be home by midnight!"  
  
"Yes!" Grace cried happily. "Thanks Dad!" She threw her arms around her father's neck, kissed his cheek, and ran out of the room in delight.  
  
"Hmph," Ron said, his ears slightly red as he hid behind the newspaper. Rayven just laughed.  
  
Grace bounded into the living room and grabbed some floo powder out of the oriental jewelry box sitting on the mantle. Throwing it into the fire she called, "Angel Malfoy!"  
  
"You rang?" A familiar voice replied as Angel's head popped into the fire.  
  
"No. There was no ringing involved." Grace replied in a very serious voice. Angel laughed.  
  
"So," Angel began once her giggles had subsided. "Can you go?"  
  
"Yeah," Grace replied. "You?"  
  
"For a second I was sure my dad was not going to let me. I had to employ tears and everything!" The girls went off into a gale of giggles.  
  
"And..." Grace started, trying to sound casual but failing. "Will James be there?"  
  
"James who?" Angel replied, grinning devilishly. If she had actually been in the room Grace would've thrown something at her.   
  
"James Potter you dolt!" She cried, and Angel burst into laughter.  
  
"Would you go if he wasn't?" She asked.  
  
"Angel," Her cousin whined, and she finally conceded.  
  
"Yes, he's coming. I promise, scout's honor, stick a needle in my eye and all that crap." Angel rolled her eyes. "You are so infatuated it's scary, Gold."  
  
"I know," Grace sighed. "Anyway, see you tomorrow night at Ryan's house!"  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"I thought he said his parents were going to be here," Grace said, her eyes widening as she looked around the crowded Webster living room.  
  
Practically all the sixth and seventh years of every house were there. The music was blasting, and there was probably more alcohol then oxygen on the premises.  
  
"Well, it can't be all bad," James remarked, looking around with one eyebrow raised. Angel's eyes tore through the crowd. In only seconds she saw who she was looking for.  
  
Her eyes locked with a pair of melted chocolate orbs. Tom Flint was still carrying on a conversation with the group of Slytherin's around him, but his eyes didn't leave Angel's.   
  
"Oh my God," Grace suddenly said in disgust. Angel jumped and tore her eyes away from Tom's. To her surprise she found her cousin looking the same direction she had been only moments before. "Look who Ryan invited. The Flints!" Grace's nose was wrinkled in disgust as she stared at the brothers and their circles of Slytherin friends.  
  
"Yeah," Angel replied. "Excuse me." She took off through the crowd, and before James or Grace realized what was happening, she was gone.  
  
"Well..." Grace said, looking after her best friend in confusion. She then suddenly realized Angel had left her alone with James and her confusion switched to annoyance. Was this an attempt to hook them up? How many times had she told Angel that James didn't see her that way.  
  
"Let's see if we can find anyone we know," James finally suggested. Not having anything better to do, Grace complied.  
  
They found several of their friends off snogging in various corners of the house, and sometimes they didn't even bother with corners. Ryan Webster, the host of the party, was passed out in the den with a cup of beer in his hand. A great deal of students were hovering around a magically enlarged punch bowl containing a liquid Grace couldn't identify, but it had an interesting effect on those who drank it.  
  
The more she saw, the more disgusted Grace became. Frank, a boy she remembered being a sweet and shy Ravenclaw who sat behind her in Arithmancy last year, grabbed her wrist as she and James were trying to get through the wave of dancers around the blaring entertainment system. He started to dance in a way that would not exactly be labeled appropriate by a parent of any kind.  
  
Furious, James removed Frank from his best friend and grabbed her wrist, literally dragging her through the mass of bodies. They managed to get outside the house, where even more people were drinking, snogging, and dancing. Grace breathed in the fresh air, somewhat shaken from her little encounter with the Ravenclaw.  
  
"What the hell was he doing?!" James demanded angrily, shooting the house an evil glare. He turned with a softer look at Grace. "Ready to go home?"  
  
"Not without Angel." She replied stubbornly. "What time is it?"  
  
"Er..." James looked down at his watch. "Oh shit!"  
  
"What?!" Grace cried. How could this possibly get any worse?  
  
"Our curfew was midnight, remember?" He said, his eyes bulging.  
  
"Well, what time is it?" Grace asked, dreading the answer.  
  
"One." Grace let out a groan.  
  
"My dad's going to have my head on a silver platter!"  
  
"Wait right here, I'm going to find Angel." James turned to reenter the house, the look on his face suggesting the pits of Hell as opposed to a large suburban home, but to his relief he found Angel at the door.  
  
"My parents are going to kill me!" She cried, running straight at James. "Do you guys realize what time it is?! We were supposed to be home an hour ago!"  
  
"C'mon," James said in a grim voice, pulling a small box out of his pocket. Inside was a silver ball, a portkey that would take them back to the Potters house. They all touched the portkey, and in less than a second were on the front lawn of The Hollow, the ancestral home of the Potters James's father had inherited.  
  
They tried to sneak into the house, but this wasn't possible. As soon as they walked in they saw Hermione sitting still in what was probably the most uncomfortable chair in the room, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Harry was pacing around the room with his hands behind his back. He whipped around as soon as he heard the door open and the guilty parties entered quietly. Hermione stood up, saw that her son was alive, then collapsed with relief. Harry's face was purple with rage.  
  
Harry got in as much yelling as he could before Hermione got the fire going and gestured for the girls to go home. They gulped, knowing they weren't likely to get off any easier at home.  
  
Grace watched her cousin disappear in a whirl of green flame. She looked up to her godmother for support, but found no sympathy in Hermione's tired brown eyes and pursed lips. Her stomach in knots of dread, she threw the powder into the fire.  
  
"The Haven!" She said softly, her eyes closed. She began to whirl around, knowing she was being taken to the manor her father had built with the money left from being a spy, knowing she would have to face her mother's teary eyes and her fathers furious words, and knowing she was in it deeper than ever before.  
  
It was just as she had suspected. Rayven's golden eyes, so much like Grace's, were red and somewhat puffy. Ron looked as if he were going to kill his daughter, his face completely white under the trademark Weasley freckles, his blue eyes furious with worry. He immediately began lecturing his daughter.  
  
Grace sat numbly, hardly hearing a word her father said. She gather that she was grounded, although Ron was far to angry to begin developing a set amount of time for her to be grounded in she knew it would probably last until Angel's birthday in August, if not the entire holiday.   
  
Finally her father stops screaming, he just seems out of breath. Grace, with her head bowed low, dragged her feet upstairs and fell into bed, sobbing herself to sleep.  
  
  
The weeks after the incident at Ryan Webster's party dragged. Grace found herself jealous of Angel and James. She knew they were both grounded as well, but at least they had siblings to distract them. Grace was all by herself, with no one but her parents for company.   
  
They both calmed down with time, of course, and Grace resumed her normal friends-as-well-as-mother-and-daughter relationship with Rayven, but she found herself silently resenting her father. She knew her mom never would've grounded her for so long. The party was at the end of June, and Angel didn't turn sixteen until August 16! That left her two free weeks of holiday.  
  
Ron felt somewhat guilty, she knew, but he refused to relent his punishment. As far as he was concerned, his daughter had broken the rules and she had to pay for it. Grace considered this totally unfair. This was the first time she had ever really done something to worry her parents, and she had left as early as she could, trying to get out of that hellhole of a party.  
  
Ron refused to listen to either argument.  
  
She was sitting alone in her room one evening in July, and was so bored that she was reading a textbook because she had finished all her homework. She was so intent on the book that she jumped in the air when she heard the queer knocking sound at her window.  
  
She looked out and saw a familiar eagle perched on the window sill, its head slightly cocked in curiosity. Grace's eyes widened, and somewhat shocked she ran over to the window and threw it open. The eagle gracefully soared inside and landed on her bed. She blinked, and in the next instant James Potter was sitting on her bed.  
  
James Potter was sitting on her bed. She was alone in her room with James. James, the boy she had loved since childhood James, who she had watch slowly grow into a man. James, who had been one of her best friends since before she could remember, the oldest son of her dad's best friend, the third member of her little trio. James, who was now sitting on her bed with a smug smile on his face that she just wanted to kiss so badly...  
  
Pull it together Weasley.  
  
"What are you doing here?" She snapped, annoyed at his ignorance at her blatant infatuation.  
  
"What does it look like I'm doing?" He asked. "I'm breaking you out of prison."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Grace, don't be so bloody thick," James grinned, and she had to bite her lip to keep from screaming her thoughts. He thought SHE was thick?! "You're an animagus, remember? You can FLY!"  
  
"Oh..." Grace suddenly realized what he was getting at. "You mean I can sneak out of here and my parents will never know?"  
  
"Precisely!" James continued, leaping off her bed and running over to her. "Angel's waiting for us, c'mon." And without anymore words he transformed back into eagle form. Laughing at her stupidity, Grace took the form of a graceful phoenix and followed James out of the open window and into the night toward Malfoy Manor.  
  
"Hey guys!" Angel squealed as two birds gracefully flew through her open window and transformed into her best friends. Grace couldn't believe she hadn't realized she could do this before.  
  
And before she knew what was happening it was established as a nightly tradition that Grace and James would fly to Angel's house to talk and, to put it honestly, just hang out in the way only teenagers can.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
As Ron settled down in his favorite armchair and snatched the Daily Prophet from the coffee table to read about the Ministry's latest Muggle Soda Pop Restriction it occurred to him that life had become incredibly dull. Everything had taken on and unshakable routine that he had come to despise.  
  
It wasn't that he wanted Voldemort back or anything, God forbid. Yet he found himself wistfully remembering the days of excitement when he had been a spy. One of five, a hero behind the scenes, living a life of danger.  
  
Sure, at the time he had hated it. Despised every moment of waking life, excepting the few moments of peace with Rayven. And the reasonable side of his mind pointed out that he wouldn't be enjoying a life of spying right now if he had the opportunity. But still...  
  
Ron had, in a sense, become his own worst nightmare. Working a nine-to-five job at the Ministry, living quietly at home with his family. The only thing that kept him from really getting mad at himself was that he had only one child.  
  
Not to say he didn't find himself wondering what Rayven would say if he told her he wanted more. He loved Grace, loved her so much it hurt sometimes. She was growing up right before his eyes, and was sixteen now. In two years, she would be on her own in the big bad world. The thought made him shudder.  
  
Not only Grace, but his niece, nephew, and godchildren, all of whom practically seemed like his own. Angel had just turned sixteen a few days ago. Her party had been a raving success. Mainly due to the fact that as of that date Grace, James, and Angel were released from their state of being grounded, and they were currently all camped out at the Potter's house in celebration. He knew he had been a little harsh, but the Malfoys and the Potters had done the same and he couldn't bring himself to feel guilty for punishing his daughter, especially after seeing the color slowly fade from her mother's face as the clock had ticked by.   
  
No, he had to live a boring life, if for no other reason than to keep Grace and Rayven safe. There were more important things, he reminded himself, than excitement. A thrilling life of danger and intrigue around every turn, never knowing what the next day will bring, endless new paths and choices and...  
  
He was doing it again. Damn it!  
  
There was no reason to remember something so horrible. He had hated being a Death Eater, hated every moment, hated the secrets and lies, hated the death and terror every day. Hatred, actually, had been his specialty.  
  
No, he reminded himself. Killing had been his specialty.  
  
That brought him back to earth in seconds. The guilt began to resurface, just as strong as it had been sixteen years ago when he was still killing. Why? Why had he done it? So what if he saved the world and all that crud, he had killed so many...so many...  
  
It was for a good cause, right? Those deaths saved millions of lives! Still, reason and guilt do not always agree. The days when he had been a spy...  
  
That's it! I give up! He thought to himself furiously. How is it he could hate what he had done so much, and yet at the same time long to return to that life?  
  
It wasn't that he wanted to be a spy so much as just something interesting. Something new. Something different. Anything but this same old boring-  
  
"Ron?"  
  
Ron realized he had been gritting his teeth. He looked up rather guiltily to see his wife giving him a look of curious concern. He smiled sheepishly.  
  
"Hello dear," He mumbled. She sat on the arm of his chair and played with his hair, which was still a fiery red, if a little thinner than when they had first married.  
  
"What were you thinking about?" She asked. There was no way to hide it from her, Rayven read him like a book. Sometimes it scared him how well she knew him.  
  
"Spying," He replied. "The days when I was a Death Eater."  
  
"Ah," She replied. "Tired of the boring mundane existence of a Ministry Council member?"  
  
"I love my job," He replied. He wasn't lying, really. The Ministry Council had one job: advise the Minister of Magic. And the Minister of Magic was Harry Potter, Ron's best friend. So he actually enjoyed his job, it was just so...boring.  
  
"You think it's boring," Rayven smiled knowingly. Ron jumped, looking at her with surprise. How had she known...?  
  
"Don't worry," She said, sighing. "I miss the old life too, sometimes. But we all know this is what's best, Ron. We both do."  
  
"Yes," He smiled. When Rayven said it, he believed it. However, in the back of his mind there was still a strange longing for action, and he knew it was within her too.  
  
Obviously neither of them remembered the old adage "Be careful what you wish for."  
  
It was at that moment that heat seared through the room as a bright blue fire appeared in the grate. Surprised, the Weasleys turned to see none other than William Croaker's head in their fire. He was older, yes, much older than when they had worked with him nearly two decades ago. Yet though his graying hair was almost gone and there were a few too many wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, he was still alive and vigorous, and had yet to retire from the Department of Mysteries. At that moment his dark eyes were wide with terror.  
  
"Bill?" Ron asked in surprised, quickly rising and crossing the room with Rayven at his heels.  
  
"Ron, Rayven," He nodded at them. "We've got a...well..." He was stuttering, as if he had seen something horrifying, which is really something for the most senior member of the Department of Mysteries.  
  
"What is it?" Rayven asked, trying to remain calm.  
  
"Number 17, Lemon Lane in Kent," He stumbled through the address. "I...I can't...you'll have to see it for yourselves. I've got a lot of work to do..." The last phrase was too himself more than to Ron or Rayven. Without another word he disappeared.  
  
"Should we go?" Ron asked, looking at his wife.  
  
"Of course we should go!" She exclaimed. "Someone could be in trouble!"  
  
"And I suppose you want to save the world," Ron smiled. Little did he know it would be the last he smiled for quite some time.  
  
They apparated to the address Bill had mentioned. The night was practically black since there was no moon, but there was activity all around the place. People were screaming, aurors and Muggle cops were running and yelling at one another, random pedestrians were crying and wailing. Ron felt dread come over him.  
  
He managed to stagger forward a few feet. The chaos around him seemed to melt, as if it were in a dream. Dread filling every part of him, he looked up. He knew, somehow what he would see.  
  
Poisonous green illuminated the sky. There it was, giving Ron the all-to-familiar twisted grin. The Dark Mark. But although the Mark was as terrifying as ever, that wasn't what Ron was staring at.  
  
Underneath the skull-and-snake there was a message. It was written in the same green as the Mark, the same terror and fascinated horror filled his being as he stared. He couldn't tear his eyes, unable to believe what he was looking at. There were two words underneath the Dark Mark.  
  
I'm back. 


	4. Professor Snape

Chapter Three:  
Professor Snape  
  
~Went back home again  
This sucks gotta pack up and leave again  
Say goodbye to all my friends  
Can't say when I'll be there again  
It's time now to turn my back on everything   
Everything...~  
  
*Avril Lavigne's "Mobile"  
"Pumpkin pastries...check! Licorice wands...check! Chocolate frogs...check! Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans...another check!"  
  
"Gold, I don't know how you guys can eat Every Flavor Beans," Angel said, making a face. "They're SO disgusting!"  
  
"It's an adventure!" James declared, grabbing a box and pouring some into his hand. After regarding the various candies for a moment he chose a white one and popped it into his mouth. "Snow," He commented.  
  
"One of the better flavors," Angel nodded darkly. Grace laughed.  
  
"Chill out, dear. Have a pumpkin pastry."  
  
"Don't mind if I do," Angel replied, snatching on off the tray of candies.  
  
"How much longer?" Grace asked around a licorice wand. Angel swallowed for the sheer purpose of reminding Grace of her manners before answering.  
  
"We have..." She studied her watch intently. "Two hours, forty-six minutes, and twenty-four...three...two seconds!"  
  
"Only two hours, forty-six minutes, and twenty-two seconds of freedom!" James cried dramatically, striking a pose. "The horror of it all!"  
  
"Actually, it's sixteen seconds now," Angel replied matter-of-factly. James gave her a look and Grace started laughing. After dividing the snacks among themselves, they sat down for one last game of exploding snap before returning they arrived at Hogwarts and their sixth year of magical training officially began.  
  
The last few weeks of summer had flown by after they had been officially released from being grounded...although they had been unofficially out of bondage for the last month and a half of holiday. None of them would say it, but they were all secretly looking forward to being back at school.  
  
Grace looked around the circle, grinning. She loved it when the three of them were just sitting there as friends like this. This was the way it should be, the way it was meant to be. She knew, right then, that these two were her absolute best friends and that nothing could tear them apart. She truly happy at that moment.  
  
It was the last time for many years that she would be happy. And years later when Grace tried to recall her carefree days at Hogwarts that game of exploding snap would come to her mind as the last time the three of them were really, truly, honestly the best of friends.  
  
The train pulled into Hogsmeade station with an unusually loud screech. The three friends piled out of the Hogwarts Express, chattering away. Although they had known each other for sixteen years, they never seemed to run out of things to talk about. A rare talent, as Angel's mother had once remarked with a laugh.   
  
The feast was full of laughter and fun, despite a somber speech on Dumbledore's part. The student body sang the school song with enthusiasm, with James and Stephen the last to stop because they chose to sing to a very slow version of "Theme for the Common Man". This just caused more laughter.  
  
However, Grace stopped laughing when the Head Boy and Girl were announced. She was, of course, thrilled with the choice of Head Girl. Jasmine Rosewater was a Gryffindor with a sense of fashion almost as wild as her sense of humor, and Grace was very fond of her. However, the Head Boy was none other than Tom Flint. She flinched when they announced it, and spent several minutes brooding and shooting nasty looks at Dumbledore.  
  
However, Grace had a great time despite of all that, as she always did at Hogwarts feasts. She and James talked animatedly as they followed Jasmine up to the Gryffindor common room. Grace's heart began to flutter. Maybe this would be the year she would tell James...the year she finally confessed that she was head over heels, and at that moment she thought that maybe, just maybe, it was possible that he liked her too.  
  
It wasn't until they were saying goodnight that they realized Angel had disappeared.  
  
"Um...where's Silver?" James asked, looking around the room as if he expected her to pop out from under a chair.  
  
"I don't know," Grace realized. She had been so caught up in the emerald of James's eyes that she hadn't noticed the absence of her cousin. "She's a big girl, she can take care of herself."  
  
"I would hope so," James teased. "Well....goodnight, Grace."  
  
"Goodnight James."  
  
Grace lay under the scarlet canopy of her bed in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Hope and resignation of failure battled within her, and the vision of James danced through her mind. She sighed, and pulled back the curtain a bit to see if Angel was awake. She needed advice.  
  
Her stomach tightened. Grace could've sworn that she had heard the door open and close about an hour ago, but obviously she had imagined it. Angel's bed was still empty, and she was nowhere to be seen. After a few moments worry overcame Grace, and she slipped silently out of bed to search for her beloved cousin.  
  
Angel wasn't in the common room, and her trunk was still untouched. Heart thudding, Grace stepped into the corridor to begin a thorough search of the castle. She had no idea where Angel could be, but she began to formulate a plan. Before Harry had given James the invisibility cloak back in fourth year, the threesome had used an abandoned classroom on the fifth floor as their headquarters. It would mean a few flights of stairs and long stretches of hallway with nowhere to hide, but she didn't know what else to do.  
  
The castle was eerily silent. Grace couldn't remember feeling so alone in her entire life. She felt as if everyone else in the world were either in another world or maybe dead altogether, certainly a million miles from Grace. Little did she know; it was a feeling that would haunt her for years to come.  
  
She was slowly slipping from shadow to shadow, trying to hide herself in the wide Defense corridor in the sixth floor. She stopped for a moment, and her eyes turned to a statue of Helga Hufflepuff entitled "The Loyal One." It was one of Grace's favorite statues, but that wasn't the reason she stopped that night. Some would call it coincidence. Others fate, destiny, or the will of a Higher Power. But that very moment, the statue moved, revealing the entrance to a room. Or the exit, as that was its current function. Two teenagers snuck out of the room, trying not to laugh.  
  
Time stopped when Grace recognized their faces. The castle seemed to fall down around her as her safe, happy world cracked. Her entire life, her ideas, her convictions had just been violated, and at that moment all evil in the world was possible. She was so shocked, so hurt, that she forgot caution.  
  
"Angel?"  
  
Angel Malfoy and Thomas Flint spun around, guilt practically stamped on their foreheads. Angel winced when her eyes fell on her cousin. Grace had stepped into the moonlight, and she looked like a Roman goddess standing proud and furious with her wild red hair loose around her shoulders and the white robe wrapped around her, the moonlight giving her figure an eerie glow.  
  
"Gold," Angel let go of Tom's hand and took a tentative step toward her cousin. "I can explain, I...we-"  
  
"Don't even try, Malfoy," Grace spat, her furious golden eyes turning to Tom and meeting the cold wall of chocolate with hatred. "I see what's going on here. I'm glad to see you've found some new friends."  
  
"That is NOT fair, Grace Weasley!" Angel cried angrily. "You've never even given him a chance!"  
  
"I know enough about the Flints to know that they're evil bastards, Head Boy or not."  
  
"This has NOTHING to do with him being Head Boy!" Angel shouted as Tom's eyes flashed dangerously. "Just because you're a judgmental, prejudiced-"  
  
"At least I'm not a traitor," Grace spat. "I don't ever want to speak to you again."  
  
"Fine."  
  
"Fine."  
  
"Fine."  
  
"FINE!" Grace shouted at the top of her lungs. She turned and stalked back to the tower, right up to the dorm. She slammed the door, completely ignorant of the slumbering state of her three other dorm mates. Diana Wesolowski poked her head out of the curtains to give her a glare, Eve Berrystraw awoke, swore, and rolled over, muttering, and Sierra Lemonqueen mumbled something in her sleep, but Grace ignored them all, falling into her bed with hot tears of anger in her eyes.   
  
A few minutes later she heard Angel come in and get ready for bed. For a brief moment, Grace got the urge to talk to her cousin, but she stamped it out quickly with the thought of Tom Flint's eyes.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A week later Angel was still eating every meal at Slytherin table, using Eve as a Potions partner and not talking to Grace. The entire school knew about Angel Malfoy and Tom Flint, but little did the cousins realize that the BIGGER gossip was the new found hatred between Angel and Grace. The separation of Silver and Gold, the school's mascot friendship, was enough to keep everyone from Jasmine Rosewater to Jeff Swiss, a second year Hufflepuff busy in the not-so-subtle art of gossip. James was trying to play the middleman without much success. He was almost as disgusted with Angel as Grace was.  
  
After dinner, Angel loudly announced that she was going to the library to "study" with Tom. Grace scowled after her, and stalked off to the common room with her nose in the air. Eve, Diana, and Sierra didn't see what the big deal was about. After all, they considered Tom REALLY hot, and REALLY datable.  
  
It was a Friday night, which technically meant Grace didn't have to do her homework since it wasn't due for two days. However, she needed the work to keep her mind off of Angel and Flint...in the library...something about the thought was fundamentally WRONG.  
  
Eventually she gave up homework and sat back to brood. Dark thoughts passed in and out of her mind, all of them on one subject.  
  
Voldemort had returned. Although the Ministry refused to acknowledge the attack on Lemon Lane as the Dark Lord's return, it was accepted as common knowledge throughout Europe, and terror was starting to grip the wizarding folk of Britain once again. Rumors of dark deeds passed through word of mouth, the Department of Mysteries was working harder than ever, and some people even claimed that Dumbledore was going to reinstate the Order of Phoenix.  
  
Whether the Order of Phoenix was really going to return or not was very secret, but the return of the Circle of Death Eaters was very much a public happening. Muggle massacres rose all over England, and every student in Hogwarts knew that the sons of former Death Eaters were recruiting allies. Just two days before in Potions class Grace had overheard Blaire Zabini complaining to Damian Flint about how much the initiation hurt. Flint had snapped back, reminding Zabini that "joining the ranks" was the ultimate honor, and he didn't now how someone as stupid and clumsy with magic as Blaire had gotten in anyway.  
  
Grace knew, she KNEW, that Tom Flint was a Death Eater. She was as certain of that as she was of her red hair. How could the oldest son of Marcus Flint NOT be a Death Eater? He was just so obviously evil. Either Angel was blind, deaf, and dumb, or...  
  
Grace shut her eyes and shook her head. Even as mad as she was, she could never believe that Angel had turned evil. There was no way. Angel was so devoted her parents and her brother, it was impossible to imagine her turning Dark...  
  
Of course, Uncle Draco had been a Death Eater. But so had Grace's parents. They weren't evil, though, Grace reminded herself, they were spies.  
  
Spies. What a life of adventure they had to have lived! Grace knew very little of her parent's lives during Voldemort's second reign. Her father hated to talk about those times. But she had often daydreamed. They were out there, danger and intrigue around every corner, never knowing what to expect and secretly saving the world!   
  
Who would save them THIS time? Mr. Potter was settled down, married, and had four children for Merlin's sake! All of the spies were settled too, seeing as Grace was the daughter of two of them. Maybe they would have to start over again, an entirely new set of spies.   
  
And then, Grace Weasley had an idea.  
  
What if...what if the Department of Mysteries hadn't thought of reinstating the spy program, or even better, what if they had? What if this was her opportunity, the chance of a lifetime, to help? To fight for what was right and help in the third defeat of Voldemort. Perhaps...the more Grace though about the idea, the more attached to it she became.  
  
She wanted to become a Death Eater. A spy. A member of the Circle of the Two Faced, as her uncle had once deemed it. But...how?  
  
Her mind began to shift through the knowledge of what little she knew about her parent's days of spying. Ron Weasley, her father, and Rayven Weasley, her mother, who had been Rayven Michaels at the time, had both been assassins, with her father as the head assassin of the Death Eaters. She shivered at the thought. Her father was a fun-loving, easygoing man, and she had never really thought of him killing anyone before.  
  
Her uncle, Draco Malfoy, had also been a Death Eater, specializing in thievery of all sorts. There was another woman, Grace knew. Her name was Angel something, because Angel Malfoy was her namesake. Angel-the-spy had been killed by Voldemort for being caught as a traitor. Grace didn't know much about the death.  
  
She frowned. This did nothing. There had to be something else...someone else...some missing piece of the puzzle. Hadn't there been another spy? She stared into the fire for a few moments, and an eerie smile crept across her features, the cold, plotting smile that would be the last sight of many innocents in the future. Grace remembered who the other spy had been.  
  
Severus Snape. Who just HAPPENED to be a professor, and was probably sitting down at his desk in the dungeons grading papers at that very moment.  
  
Even as everything was coming together in Grace's mind her good common sense and Light upbringing were battling with the idea. No, she was good, she was light, and she could NEVER support the Dark Lord, right? Even if it would save millions of lives, not to mention be exciting and heroic and...  
  
By Saturday night, she had summoned her courage. Grace Cora Weasley, daughter of Ron and Rayven Weasley, Harry Potter's goddaughter, was nervously standing just outside the door to the Potions dungeon, wringing her hands as she went over her prepared speech over and over in her mind, preparing herself for what she was about to do.  
  
Pulling out her Gryffindor instincts and Weasley bullheadedness, she opened the door and barged into the classroom.  
  
"Has the concept of knocking ever occurred to you Gryffindors?" The silky voice of Snape asked icily as he eyed the lone female Gryffindor in question. Grace bit her lip.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir." She mumbled.  
  
"Well?" He snapped. "What do you want?"  
  
"Professor, I wanted to ask you...I wanted to ask you for some advice," She chose her words carefully. Snape only raised an eyebrow. "About the war." She squeaked. Suddenly, all her previous courage was gone.  
  
"War?" Snape said, as if he had never heard the war. Grace felt her infamous red-haired temper flare.  
  
"Yeah, you know, the return of Voldemort?"'  
  
"Oh, that war," Snape shrugged. "What about it?"  
  
"Well..." She was stumbling again. "You know the Death Eaters are returning too, and I'm sure the Ministry needs some way to...er...monitor their activities..."  
  
"What are you driving at, Miss Weasley?" He asked in a rather bored tone.  
  
"I want to be a spy, like my parents were," Grace blurted.  
  
Snape was shocked, but he didn't show it. At that point, Grace didn't know him well enough to realize that two rapid blinks meant that Severus Snape was surprised, and this occasion earned three blinks. His eyes went up and down the form of the young girl.  
  
Slim, pretty, fair-skinned female, aged sixteen, with bright flaming red hair and deep golden eyes. Only child of two former spies, spoiled, sheltered, stubborn. Gryffindor, klutzy, innocent, loved, goddaughter of Harry Potter, enemy of Damian Flint, best friend of James Potter and Angel Malfoy. Grace Cora Weasley, standing in front of him in her newly washed Hogwarts School uniform, her scarlet and gold tie perfectly knotted around her neck, her socks the same length and her skirt spotless, her head slightly cocked in anticipation of his response. Asking him to become a Death Eater.  
  
He was getting too old for this.  
  
"No," Snape said after looking her up and down just once. He turned around and sat at his desk, making it quite clear that the conversation was over. Grace's eyes narrowed.  
  
"What do you mean, no?" She demanded. He looked up from his desk.  
  
"I said no and meant it, Weasley. There's no way you can be a Death Eater."  
  
"Says who?" Grace snapped childishly.  
  
"You're just...no."  
  
"I'm going to become a Death Eater anyway, and I'll just appear at the Ministry one day with information," She said, as if this were supposed to make him change his mind.  
  
"Won't work," Snape replied simply.  
  
"Why not?" She replied. "Uncle Draco did it."  
  
"This is an entirely different situation."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"Because..." Snape sighed. "Miss Weasley, why do you want to do this?"  
  
Grace blinked. She hadn't been prepared for that one. Snape smiled knowingly and leaned back in his chair. He began talking again before Grace could come up with a response.  
  
"Tell you what, Miss Weasley," He said, leaning forward again and planting his elbows on the desk, his head resting on his steepled fingers. "Why don't you write me an essay on why you want to become a Death Eater, hm? Include reasons, what you would do if you were caught, what your parents, friends and other family would think if they found out, what they would think if you were caught, and any other information you feel relevant. Put a lot of thought and time into it, and if it's decent, then MAYBE I'll consider your ridiculous idea."  
  
"An essay?" Grace said, as if that were the stupidest thing she had ever heard (which it was). However, after a moment she shook her head and threw her hands in the air in defeat. She looked down at him, wanting nothing more than to prove all his assumptions of her wrong. "Fine!" She declared. "Essay it is! I'll have it on your desk by Friday." And with that, she turned and left the room, muttering.  
  
Severus sighed and put his head in his hands. He had recognized that glint in Grace's eyes, she had looked eerily like her mother. He could remember the night Rayven told him she was going to the Dark Lord whether Ron thought she was ready or not. The stubborn determination had been present in her daughter's eyes that night.  
  
He groaned. Not another one!  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Friday had been an exceedingly long day. Severus Snape looked forward to the end of his classes almost as much as his incompetent students did. Honestly, could he get through just one week without someone blowing up a cauldron?   
  
Obviously not.  
  
With a sigh, Severus sat down at his desk after dinner and cast the waiting papers a glare that would've made any Ravenclaw wilt on the spot. However, the papers just sat expectantly. Scowling even more ferociously, he began to ruthlessly grade the fourth year essays. This girl has been sick for three weeks, she fails. Illness is no excuse for poor quality papers. This boy did pretty good, but his handwriting was sloppy. Hmm...C. This is mediocre, whose paper is it? A Slytherin? She gets an A.  
  
Really, Snape's existence was pretty boring.  
  
I need a break, he thought to himself. He stood and stretched. A good long dinner, that's what he needed. Maybe he'd catch some Gryffindors in a compromising position and would have the privilege to dish out a few detentions while he was at it.  
  
Dinner was dull, as usual. His eyes wandered down to the students. He looked fondly on the Slytherins. Hardy and cunning young boys and girls that would be prepared for the world to come. Providing, of course, that they didn't fall victim to Voldemort. Not as most people feared falling victim to him, oh no. A quick death was decidedly preferable to a lifetime of fear.   
  
How many of his students were going to turn to him for power? How many were going to make the same mistake he did and become a Death Eater?  
  
And what about Grace Weasley? He had been pondering over the situation constantly. He hadn't received her essay yet, which was probably a good thing. That was the last thing he needed right now. The thought of what Ron would say if her found out that Snape was considering training Ron's only daughter to become a Death Eater...  
  
Snape shuddered. No, that definitely would NOT be good.  
  
He finished his dinner, which was by no means the best he'd ever had. Did the house elves have a hang over or something? He thought sourly. The Great Hall was unbearably hot, and he was relieved to be returning to the nice cool dungeons where his mind could properly function.  
  
He settled himself back at his desk and his eyes turned to the papers. He found that another essay had been placed on his desk. Smiling slightly, Severus lifted a thick bulk of parchment and looked bemusedly at the title. In neat, slanting script that looked as if it belonged on pink stationary the words scrawled across the top of the parchment.  
  
"Why I Want to Become a Death Eater"   
By Grace Weasley  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Grace had never been so nervous in her entire life. Then again, she had never written an essay entitled "Why I Want to become a Death Eater" and then actually handed the damned thing in to her least favorite professor before.  
  
Was she crazy? Well, yes, that was a given. How else could the idea even have occurred to her? She still hadn't talked to Angel, but that was more because Angel was avoiding her than anything else. Her mind had been reeling since she had picked up a quill to begin writing that essay.  
  
Was she doing the right thing? Her mind was completely divided on this particular question, the fundamental problem of all her questions. Things like this were on the blurry line between right and wrong, and it was quite possible, she was beginning to realize, that her choice might be a mistake for everyone.  
  
No, she mustn't think like that. Setting her chin, Grace's stubborn nature (inherited from both sides) kicked in. She'd waited for Snape to send her some kind of word for two days now, and she wasn't about to let him waste any more of her precious time. Without thinking, she stood suddenly and swept out of the Gryffindor common room and headed for the dungeons.  
  
She didn't bother to knock. She stopped suddenly upon entering. He was in the exact same position he had been the last time she had bothered to pay attention: grading papers at his desk.  
  
Didn't this man have any kind of life? I mean, honestly.  
  
"One day, Miss Weasley, I must teach you to knock," Snape said, not looking up from his papers. Grace swallowed and took a few timid steps deeper into the classroom. She cleared her throat, but he didn't look up. Her eyes narrowed in annoyance.  
  
"AHEM!" She said loudly. Snape calmly met her rather angry gaze with one dark eyebrow raised. God, Grace thought in disgust, even his EYEBROWS are greasy!  
  
"Yes?" The greasy-eyebrowed professor inquired.  
  
"Well?" Grace said, knowing her intentions were obvious.  
  
"Well what?" Snape replied innocently...or at least as innocent as Snape could ever hope to sound.  
  
"My essay!" Grace snapped.   
  
"Oh. That."  
  
"Yes, that," She was getting very annoyed very quickly.  
  
"Well, I read it," Snape said, setting down his quill slowly and reaching under the papers he had been grading and pulling out a thick roll of parchment Grace recognized as her essay. She almost flinched. He kept it out in the open like that, where any prank-bound student could accidentally stumble upon it? What if it was discovered?  
  
"You read it," Grace echoed, nodding, forcing her questions and anger down.  
  
"Yes," He replied. His eyes traveled the parchment, as if reviewing one last time. When he looked up, his cold, dark eyes met her golden one with no mercy. "This is all wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong."  
  
"What do you mean, 'wrong?'" Grace demanded angrily, her cheeks turning bright red from anger and embarrassment.  
  
"Wrong attitude, Weasley," Snape sneered. "You're trying to play the hero here, and you are going to nobly sacrifice yourself for a worthy cause."  
  
"Just because you couldn't be noble to save your life-" Grace started, but bit her tongue as she realized what she had just said. Snape smiled in a way that she didn't like at all.  
  
"That's right, Miss Weasley," He said. "I'm not stupid enough to be noble. It's not a failing you find often in Slytherins."  
  
"My Uncle Draco was noble," Grace argued, lifting her chin proudly. "He was in Slytherin."  
  
"One of my choice pupils," Severus agreed. "Draco didn't go into spying to play hero, he would've been killed either way. It was common sense with a pinch of morality."  
  
"And I suppose that's why YOU were a spy," Grace asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She wouldn't have been surprised if he had given her several detentions on the spot, but she was too angry to hold her temper in check. The man was deliberately provoking her!  
  
"Yes," Snape replied, never skipping a beat. "That's exactly why I became a spy."  
  
"I...I don't understand-"  
  
"Of course you don't," Snape snarled. "You're a spoiled, sheltered little girl, Grace Weasley. Draco and I were both sons of Dark men, both raised to become Death Eaters. When we realized we were making a mistake, spying offered the only way to redeem ourselves. And furthermore, we-"  
  
"My father was raised to be an auror," Grace interrupted, and Severus stopped talking as Grace formed her argument. "My parents, both of them, came from Light families, just like me. You trained my father, didn't you?"  
  
"That was different," Snape said quietly.  
  
"How?" Grace demanded fiercely, taking a few bold steps forward. "Because Voldemort was powerful when my parents joined him? Huh? Don't you ever wonder what would've happened if they had joined at the very beginning, before he had the chance to gain power?"  
  
She had him there. Snape had often wondered.  
  
"That's what I want to do, professor, I want to stop the Dark Lord before he gets started. You have to understand that," Grace whispered. Snape met her eyes for the second time that night.   
  
Snape fully intended to refuse. Ron would raise hell if anything happened to his precious daughter. Grace's life would become a world of lies and half-truths, always making up excuses and drifting from her friends. She would be miserable and wonder whatever possessed her to do something so stupid and...  
  
And it was out of his hands. She was ultimately going to rule her own destiny, and if she was going to go through with this he was going to at least make sure she had the proper training beforehand.  
  
"Alright, Miss Weasley. I'll CONSIDER going through with this," He held up a hand to silence the statement he could see quivering on her lips. "But first, I need you to do me a favor."  
  
"Anything," Grace sighed, sounding relieved. Snape smiled for a moment, that same cold smile Grace wasn't particularly fond of, then picked up his quill, filled it was ink, and marked a mistake on a student's paper with a flourish before finally explaining.  
  
"I need a cat skull, Miss Weasley," He finally said, then continued grading papers as if there was nothing unusual in that request.  
  
"WHAT!?" Grace exclaimed. "What do you mean, a cat skull?"  
  
"I need you to kill a cat, then bring me the head," Snape said slowly, as if explaining to a rather slow first year. "Cleaned, of course."  
  
"That's cruelty!"  
  
"I suppose you're right," He sighed dramatically. His gaze bored into hers, and Grace shuddered. "I take it back, Miss Weasley. I do not need a cat skull." She sighed with relief. "I need a burnt cat skull. And I want the creature killed and burned WITHOUT magic."  
  
For a moment she could only stare in open-mouthed shock that he could possibly have just asked her to...She squared her shoulders defiantly. She would prove she wasn't as prissy as he thought her. "Fine then, professor. A burnt cat skull it is." With that she turned on heel and had almost reached the door when Snape's voice interrupted her.  
  
"Oh, and Miss Weasley?"  
  
"Yes, professor?"  
  
"I need you to stop feuding with your cousin," He said. "It will be much easier if you and Miss Malfoy are on speaking terms."  
  
Grace nodded, then turned and swept out of the room with all the pride she could muster. She let out a sigh of relief once she was completely out of the dungeons. Honestly, the nerve!  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Angel frowned at the parchment. The symbols were becoming blurred, and in her sleep-deprived mind the runes were becoming one unceasing line of nonsense.  
  
Shaking her head to force herself awake, Angel checked her chart and continued with her Ancient Runes homework. She really wished Tom were there. Aside from all the obvious reasons, he was REALLY good at Ancient Runes.  
  
"I told you to drop that stupid class," A familiar voice came from behind her. She dropped her quill, hardly able to believe her ears. She turned in her seat to see her cousin standing just behind her.  
  
"G...Gr...Grace," She stammered.  
  
"It's good to know you haven't forgotten my name," Grace commented, dropping into the chair she used to sit in every night with her eyebrows raised. Angel realized she must've sounded incredibly stupid.  
  
"I would never forget your name," She snapped defensively. Grace merely raised an eyebrow. Without asking, she plopped into the nearest chair. Angel felt a strange sense of relief welling inside of her. That had traditionally been Grace's chair while they did their homework. She was, Angel knew, making a forgiving gesture by sitting without being asked. Angel grinned jokingly at her cousin and continued, "How could I forget? Grace! The opposite of your true self: klutz!"  
  
Both girls laughed loudly at this. It had always been a joke between them of how klutzy Grace was, and how could her parents have ever named her Grace? At the sound of their laughter, the majority of the common room turned with wide eyes and stared. Silver and Gold...laughing together? A feeling that a great weight had been lifted swept the room, which Grace and Angel felt more than anyone else for obvious reasons.  
  
"All joking aside," Grace said seriously. "Angel, I'm not going to lie to you. I don't like Tom Flint. But your life is your life, and I just want you to be happy."  
  
"Oh Gold!" Angel felt her eyes mist. She couldn't believe her cousin had just said that. The two girls hugged.  
  
"But I don't want to hear about the details," Grace said, making a face that Angel couldn't help but giggle at. "You and Flint just...ergh."  
  
They were interrupted by the unmistakable rumble of the return of the Quidditch team. Four of their players were boys, three of them seventh years who always made a point of being as loud as possible when the reentered the common room, rowdy as only teenaged boys can be. The girls followed later, already cleaned and changed unlike the sweaty, dirty boys. They were rowdy and loud, if not as much.  
  
James was the last to come in, as he almost always was. His eyes traveled the room, and landed almost immediately at the table he had sat at to do his homework every night for the last six years. When he first saw Angel and Grace sitting there, he didn't think anything of it. His attention had already shifted before he remembered that Grace and Angel weren't talking with each other, and his gaze snapped back to them, jogging across the room to the table in ill-concealed shock.  
  
"Well..." He said, looking from one grinning face to the next. "It's about time!"  
  
"Oh shut up!" Grace said, summoning a pillow from the sofa and throwing it at him. He caught it and threw it back at her. They all had a good laugh. James sat down and pulled out his books. It was finally beginning to seem like the good old days.  
  
"I've got to go pick up a few books in the library," Grace said out of the blue. She stood up and swept out without further explanation. James looked up, startled, and saw his confusion reflected in Angel's silver eyes.  
  
"Why do I have the feeling she doesn't need a book?" He asked.  
  
Grace, meanwhile, was locked in a broom closet. She had to congratulate herself, she had never lied so well. She was relieved to be back on speaking terms with Angel, even if every word had been false. Well, not all...Grace really DID want her cousin to be happy...with anyone but...HIM!  
  
Sighing, she pulled out the pillow she and James had thrown back and forth. Well, she thought grimly, maybe once she was a Death Eater she could drop this ridiculous crush on her best friend.   
  
She waved her wand and managed to transfigure the pillow into a cat. True, the cat bright scarlet and gold, but Snape wouldn't be seeing it's fur. She whispered a silencing charm and pulled out a knife. She was going to do whatever it took to follow through with her plans, and if it was a cat skull Snape wanted, it was a cat skull he was going to get.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Severus Snape was sitting in the exact same position his students always imagined him in. Hunched over his desk, shoulder length ebony and silver-streaked hair nearly hiding his face as he scowled. However, today his scowl was not directed at a stack of potentially failing fourth-year Hufflepuff essays, but a monotonous looking tome entitled "Black Potions of the Tudor Dynasty." He was interrupted by a knock on the door.  
  
"Enter," He said, more in surprise than anything else.   
  
"Oh. My. God." Snape drawled, sounding bored. "You've learned to knock. It's a miracle."  
  
Grace said nothing. She sauntered forward, both hands behind her back. Snape only raised an eyebrow to show he wasn't impressed. Grace stopped in front of his desk, gave him a smirk worthy of a Slytherin and placed the burnt cat skull on his desk on top of Black Potions of the Tudor Dynasty with a flourish. Snape blinked twice.  
  
Grace may have looked confident, but she was really uncertain about what Snape would do. She suddenly had a vision of Snape in elaborate Elizabethan costume, picking up the skull and looking into its eyes and crying "To be or not to be: that is the question!"  
  
Or not.  
  
"Say something!" Grace exclaimed, trying to get the idea of Snape as a Shakespearian actor out of her head.  
  
"Something," Snape replied.  
  
"ARGH!" Grace threw her hands in the air in frustration. "I just handed you a burnt cat skull and you have NOTHING to say?!"  
  
"Did you kill it with a knife?" Snape asked. Grace rolled her eyes.  
  
"How else did you expect me to do it?"  
  
"What were you thinking?" He asked.  
  
"That the whole thing was disgusting and you were sick," She snapped in reply.  
  
"Nothing for the cat?"   
  
"I transfigured it from a pillow," Grace rolled her eyes. "I mean, come on."  
  
"Hm," Snape looked thoughtful. Perhaps, he thought, perhaps she DID have what it took....  
  
"I bet you think you're tough shit?" He continued coolly. Grace started, she'd never heard him swear before.  
  
"I...I..." She stuttered  
  
"Exactly," He snapped. "Grace's cheeks reddened in anger. She hadn't even said anything.  
  
"Come with me, Miss Weasley," Snape said suddenly, standing and sweeping to his office. Grace had little choice but to follow. She had been in his office before when she, Angel and James had been busted for one prank on the Slytherins of another, but never before had Grace entered the office in ordinary circumstances.  
  
Not that the current circumstances could be considered normal...  
  
Grace's mind was snapped to the present when Snape produced (seemingly form nowhere) a cage full of mice.  
  
"What, am I supposed to perform horrific scientific experiments on them?" Grace asked, rolling her eyes.   
  
"In a way," Snape replied, totally missing the sarcasm. "To be a Death Eater you need to know how to use the Unforgivables. You knew that of course."  
  
"Of course," Grace gulped. In actuality the thought had never come into light. It had been there, of course, the knowledge that this excursion would require Black magic, but it had all seemed like an adventure, like a great, if somewhat twisted game. Now, she was beginning to wonder what she had gotten herself into.  
  
"Go ahead," Snape said, seating himself comfortably behind the desk. It was then that Grace realized he had moved one mouse into a separate container. "And do try not to miss the bin. It will contain the curse so we don't feel its effects. As much as I hate my next class, I would prefer to be alive to teach it.."  
  
"Aren't there....alarms or something?" She was practically stuttering.  
  
"Not in my office," Snape replied with a smirk. "Certain potions require Dark magic, Miss Weasley. You would know that if you paid attention in my class."  
  
"I knew that," Grace sulked. "I just-"  
  
"Stop stalling, Miss Weasley," He snapped. "Imperious will do fine, thank you."  
  
Grace mumbled some rather rude words under her breath as she pulled out her wand. Gathering her concentration she stared down at the fidgety mouse. Brow furrowed, she waved her wand and called in a commanding voice, "Imperio!"  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
Cheeks flaring, Grace unwillingly met her professor's infuriating smirk. "Try it again," He instructed. "Try Cruciatus this time."  
  
"Crucio!" She cried. The mouse remained untouched and unharmed. Grace let out a wordless sort of growl in frustration.  
  
"None of that now," Snape said with infuriating calm. Grace glared.  
  
"I expect you want me to try the killing curse?" She asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.  
  
"Of course," Grace started at his words. She met his cold black stare. His countenance revealed nothing.  
  
"You..." She stuttered. "You're not...you're not serious, are you?"  
  
"I never joke, Miss Weasley. I am completely serious."  
  
Grace's eyes returned to the mouse. How could he expect her to just pick up her wand and kill it?  
She hadn't handled the cat as coolly as she had told Snape and this...this was just so...cold-blooded. Her eyes flickered to Snape, who was studying her intently. Determined not to show her underlying confused emotions she raised her wand, surprised to see her hand was steady. She aimed carefully at the mouse.  
  
"Avada Kedavra."  
  
A burst of green light shot out of her wand with the force of a shotgun. It bounded toward the tiny creature. Grace's eyes widened as the mouse fell. Dead.  
  
Silence.  
  
"I...I..." Grace was staring at the dead creature with unblinking eyes.  
  
"Your father-" Grace's head snapped up when she heard Snape speak. The smirk was gone and his voice was somewhat hoarse. He swallowed and started again. "Your father did the same thing. He performed Avada Kedavra successfully the first time he tried."  
  
Grace felt shivers run up her back. For a moment she thought her knees were going to give out. She forced herself to show nothing. She refused to look weak in front of Snape.  
  
"Well," He sighed after a few moments of awkward silence. "It appears I'm forced to through with your ridiculous plan. Come, you'll need to talk with Dumbledore."  
  
"Now?!" Grace exclaimed incredulously.  
  
"Do you have a better suggestion?" Snape raised an eyebrow. "That's what I thought." He continued when she didn't reply. A wave of his wand rid their presence of the mice, a great relief to Grace. She didn't like mice anyway, but this put an entirely new take on that.  
  
"Whatever you say," She replied. Once out of the dungeons Snape began walking so fast Grace nearly had to jog to catch up with him. He scowled so furiously at every student they encountered that they all assumed Grace was in for some kind of hideous punishment. She got several piteous glances. Grace had to hand it to him, Snape was an accomplished actor. Just not of the Shakespearian type. Or so she hoped anyway.  
  
"Ben and Jerry's," Snape snapped at the gargoyle signaling the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Grace followed her professor up the staircase, her stomach twisting itself into knots. She winced inwardly as Snape knocked. There was no turning back now.  
  
"Ah," The headmaster said as he opened the door. "Sever. Miss Weasley." He nodded as he acknowledged them and Grace got the eerie feeling he had been expecting them. "Do come in."  
  
They did as he asked, of course. Snape swept in as if he owned the office. Grace followed more slowly, looking around the office appreciatively...and stalling. She wasn't ashamed to admit it: The very thought of Dumbledore's reaction to her decision to become a death Eater terrified her. Would he expel her on the spot? Would he-  
  
"Sit down, Miss Weasley. You seem distracted," Said Dumbledore kindly. "Now what is all this about?"  
  
"Headmaster, I am here to discuss a very important matter with you concerning Miss Weasley." It was then that Grace noticed Snape wasn't sitting; he was pacing.  
  
"Indeed?" Dumbledore replied, on bushy, silver eyebrow raised as if to say 'obviously.' "Severus, I insist that you stop pacing and be blunt. Tell me what the problem is, it cannot be as bad as you two are making it out to be.  
  
"Miss Weasley..." Snape stopped and ran a hand through his hair. "She has decided to become a spy, Headmaster. A Death Eater."  
  
Silence. Even the portraits had stopped snoring and were wide-awake, waiting for Dumbledore to react. Grace's darted across the room and her breathing quickened as the silence in the room seemed to press in around her. She waited for him to say something...ANYTHING! Anything would be better than this heavy, oppressive silence drowning her.  
  
"This...this is a very big decision, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said slowly, carefully choosing his words.  
  
"We have no choice," Snape said.  
  
"You don't?" Grace asked, confused. Snape rolled his eyes and turned back to the Headmaster.  
  
"She used the killing curse on the first try. Her father-"  
  
"I know all about her family, Severus," Dumbledore interrupted. He was staring at Grace in a way she really didn't like. His blue eyes seemed to see right through her exterior face and into her very soul. She fought the urge to squirm. He looked away so suddenly she felt as if someone had just lifted a weight from her shoulders.  
  
"It is really not my place to say anything," Dumbledore said. "You are the expert, Severus, you do not answer to me as far as this is concerned. Take her to Mr. Croaker."  
  
"You mean...you don't have a problem with it?" Grace asked incredulously, speaking for the first time. Dumbledore looked back at her with a faint smile.  
  
"Miss Weasley if you are anything like your father what I say will not have any effect whatsoever on your decision. If you feel this is what you have to do, then do it. I will not punish you for doing what is right."  
  
"Thank you," Grace whispered. She looked at Snape for instructions.  
  
"Go to bed," He said, rolling his eyes. "I'll set up an appointment with Croaker."  
  
"How will I know when it is?" Grace asked.  
  
"Trust me, you'll know."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"I REALLY should have done this last night," James moaned.  
  
"That's your own stupid fault," Grace laughed. "Not doing homework for Snape is just asking for it!"  
  
"Hurry up!" Angel whined at Grace, the only one still eating. "I want to look something up before class!"  
  
The three friends had a ritual which had been abandoned during the fight between Grace and Angel but was now back in effect. The three of them went down to breakfast at exactly seven AM. Class started at 8:15. They ate breakfast then spent the remaining time in the Library, usually finishing homework assignments or studying for quizzes.   
  
Grace slurped the rest of her eggs and the three of them went together. The entire time James scribbled away at his homework and Angel flipped through one reference book or another, Grace just gazed off into space. Her mind was whirling, thinking and planning. She was going to meet the famous William Croaker sometime in the near future and she had absolutely no idea what she was going to say.  
  
"Oh shit!" Angel exclaimed, snapping Grace out of her reverie.  
  
"What?!" Grace cried.  
  
"We're going to be late!"  
  
They moved with an almost unnatural speed, all three of them with a steady flow of cursing under their breath. They ran through the halls, practically running over some of the younger (and still slightly lost) students.  
  
James was the first to skid to a halt in the Potions classroom just as the bell sound, followed immediately by Angel. Snape looked up, and the first person he saw was Grace.  
  
"Detention for your tardiness, Miss Weasley!" He barked.  
  
For a moment, Grace was going to protest. After all, James and Angel had been just as late! But then she remembered what her professor had said about her knowing when she was supposed to meet Croaker. This was an excuse for her to leave the common room and...well, actually leave the school entirely but no one would know about that....  
  
"But professor Snape!" James cried indignantly. "You can single her out, we-"  
  
"Silence!" Snape roared, and silence there was, except for the not-so-quiet snickering of the Slytherins. "Ten points from Gryffindor for speaking without permission."  
  
"Don't worry about it," Grace hissed, sliding into her seat between James and Angel.  
  
"But he-" James started  
  
"I said don't worry about it!" Grace snapped, then began to take notes, leaving James little choice but to do the same.  
  
Grace went through the rest of the day in a mixture of guilty excitement and terror. What would she do? What would she say? What would HE say?  
  
She got a letter at dinner calling for her to meet Snape in the dungeons at 8:00 for her detention. She left the common room fifteen minutes early and knocked on the door to the dungeons.  
  
"You're finally getting the hang of this knocking thing aren't you?" Snape asked as he opened the door. Grace rolled her eyes. The man was impossible!  
  
"Well?" He said. "What are you just standing there for?" He gestured her into the classroom and in turn into his office. A fire was blazing the in the grate. Snape pointed at the floo powder. "Just follow my example," He commanded, taking a pinch of the powder. He threw it in, stepped into the suddenly green flames, and shouted "Croaker's Place!" In a swirl of emerald he was gone.  
  
Grace was well acquainted with the floo network of course. She emulated her professor and felt the world swirling around her. She came to an abrupt halt, and climbed out of the fire grate dusting soot off of her uniform. She looked up and saw Snape standing next to a tall nearly bald man with keen eyes, spectacles, and a few tufts of gray hair: William Croaker, age 57.  
  
Grace stood up and gulped. She brushed the soot from her skirt nervously and met Croaker's dark blue eyes. He looked her up and down once and then turned to Severus before he spoke.  
  
"Hell no."  
A/N: Well, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I know you've been waiting for an eternity! ^_^ Sorry about that...I could reel off a list of excuses ten miles long, but it's pointless. Late it late *sigh*  
  
Please stick around for chapter four!! See, I promised this story would get darker. Trust me, it's going to be as bad, if not worse, than NTB in this area...I hope...  
  
Next chapter we get into Death Eater training, oh boy! And also, for all you people who prefer the dark, evil type we meet Damian Flint on a deeper level. I'm working as fast as I can! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and don't forget to leave a review ^_~ 


	5. Obstacles

A/N: Okay folks, Merry Christmas, Happy Birthday, Joyous Easter and whatever else you could possibly want presents for. I'm finally posting!!! Sorry for the wait, but between summer and band and not to MENTION the fifth book...  
  
Speaking of which, important announcement: I will be altering Never Turn Back to match the OotP. I know I said I wouldn't do that, but actually it played right into this particular series (look out for Occlumency! It just screams Death Eater training!), so I will alter the three total sentences where Sirius (whom I miss dearly. We all loved him!) is mentioned. I loved him too, guys!  
  
And without further ado...  
  
Chapter Four:  
  
Obstacles  
  
~Everything's changing when I turn around  
  
All out of my control  
  
I'm a mobile  
  
Everything's changing everywhere I go  
  
All out of my control  
  
I'm a mobile~  
  
**Avril Lavigne's Mobile  
  
"What do you mean 'hell no?'" The words flew out of Grace's mouth before she could stop them. Croaker's eyes widened. Grace clamped a hand over her mouth and shot a terrified glance at Snape. To her surprised he seemed to be working to maintain a straight face. If she didn't know better, she would think he was...amused?  
  
"And exactly what is so funny, Severus?" Croaker snapped, rounding on Snape, who just shook his head.  
  
"That's exactly the same thing you said when I brought Rayven and Angel into this room twenty years ago," Snape said, still shaking his head.  
  
"YES!" Croaker snapped. "Because I don't believe young girls are-"  
  
"Hm," Snape interrupted. "Would you mind sharing these sentiments with Rayven?"  
  
"Yes," Croaker replied, looking absolutely horrified at the very idea.   
  
"Well then," Snape said. "If they can do it, so can she."  
  
Croaker's gaze returned to the young, fiery haired girl. He sighed and looked back at Severus. "I don't have much of a choice in this, do I?"  
  
"Of course you do," Severus replied. "You can help me to train her, or I can do it alone." Croaker sighed again and raised his hands in defeat.  
  
"Fine, fine...any vital information I need?" He asked.  
  
"She performed the killing curse on her first try," Snape replied. Croaker sucked in a breath and looked at Grace in a whole new light. She felt her cheeks flame under his gaze.  
  
"That's all well and good, Severus," Croaker replied. "But I was thinking more along the lines of...her name?"  
  
Now Grace sucked in a breath and shot a glare at Snape, who was looking rather guilty. He hadn't told Croaker her name?  
  
"Well, uh...as to that..." Snape mumbled. Grace had never seen him so uncomfortable. "She...her name is..."  
  
"Just say it!" Croaker exclaimed.   
  
"Grace," Snape replied. Croaker raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Is there a last name with that?"  
  
"Er..." Snape shot her an apologetic look before returning to Croaker. "Grace Weasley."  
  
There was silence for a moment. Grace watched Croaker's reaction with interest. For a moment she was sure he was going to explode. His face had gone an alarming shade of red and had expanded greatly. His veins were popping out of his neck and his eyes were twice their normal circumferences. For a few seconds he could only stutter and choke.  
  
"WEASLEY?!" He finally roared. "You mean as in Ron and Rayven Weasley? As in their daughter, Weasley?"  
  
"Er...yes," Snape replied. Croaker turned back to Grace opened his mouth, shut it, and fell down into his chair with his face in his hand.  
  
"I'm getting too old for this," he muttered.  
  
"Bill-" Snape began.  
  
"Do you realize what will happen if I allow her to become a Death Eater?" Bill asked in a deathly quiet voice, rising to his feet once again. "My head on a platter, that's what. And yours too! Severus, she's RON'S daughter! Have you lost all your senses?!"  
  
"It's not like we have much of a choice," Snape argued stiffly. He obviously was not pleased with Croaker's reaction to his suggestion. "If the Death Eaters get to her first-"  
  
"I simply cannot allow-"  
  
"You are being completely unreasonable-"  
  
"If she goes through with this-"  
  
"Excuse me?" Grace interrupted. "Would you stop talking about me as if I'm not standing right here? I really don't appreciate it."  
  
Snape had the good grace to appear embarrassed. Croaker just stared at her as if she were some kind of chemistry experiment gone horribly wrong.   
  
"Sorry, Miss Weasley," Snape murmured. Grace nodded, forcing herself not to show her surprise. Had Snape just...APOLOGIZED to her?!  
  
"I...I...oh dear Lord," Croaker collapsed into a chair again. "Severus, are you intent on this insanity?"  
  
"It's her life," Snape pointed out. "And she has the skills. I think it would be the wisest decision."  
  
"Do you intend to find a partner for her?" Croaker demanded. "Even you, Severus, didn't spy alone when you first joined us all those years ago."  
  
Snape flinched visibly, and Grace felt her eyes widen in surprise. What was he TALKING about? Snape had worked with fellow spies during Voldemort's first rise to power? Why had her parents never mentioned them?  
  
"If someone offers or shows potential I will consider that option," Sirius replied through clenched teeth. Croaker sighed heavily.   
  
"Fine then. I suggest we begin training her immediately," Now that Croaker had accepted the fact that Grace Weasley, Ron and Rayven's daughter, was intent on becoming a Death Eater, he was intent on preparing her for her own damnation.  
  
"With what?" Snape demanded.  
  
"She must kill a cat, and I want her to-"  
  
"Done," Grace interrupted. Croaker's eyes widened, and Snape nodded to verify this statement. Croaker nodded slowly before continuing.  
  
"All right then...the obstacle course."  
  
"Obstacle course?" Grace asked with eyebrows raised skeptically. The two men nodded, then led Grace outside the building to a small hut. Croaker opened the door and graciously allowed Grace to enter before him. She rolled her eyes and walked inside, and gasped.  
  
She was standing at the bottom of a tall, steep hill. At the top of the hill was a complex arrangement of ropes, walls, and ladders. Snape and Croaker came in behind her and shut the door. Obviously this hut was VERY enchanted.  
  
"Um...I have to run THIS?" Grace said, gulping. She had never cared much for sports of any kind and she didn't consider herself exactly physically fit.  
  
"When you can complete the course in seven minutes you may accept the Dark Mark." Croaker said simply. "Start running."  
  
"But...but...I..." Grace stuttered.   
  
"Ready," Croaker said, taking out a stopwatch. "Set...GO!"  
  
"But-" Grace was cut off when Snape shoved her forward. And just when she thought things couldn't get any worse it started to rain.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The girl's dormitory was silent, and the faintest tints of orange through the eastern window were the only signs of the coming sunrise. Therefore, an outside observer would have been surprised to see the heavy scarlet curtains around the second bed on the left rip apart to release a groggy-eyed, messy-haired, fluently swearing teenaged girl.  
  
However, an outside observer would not have been in the confines of the bed itself, therefore not hearing the blaring alarm charmed not to leave the curtains about the bed.  
  
Grace grappled for her wand and muttered a silencing charm. She was sorely tempted to just go back to sleep, but Snape and Croaker had both stressed her need to become physically fit. After taking nearly seventeen full minutes to run the obstacle course, she knew she had a long way to go. Apparently when her father had been faced with the problem of training for the course he had simply run every morning, and Snape had suggested she do the same. If only it were that easy!  
  
She managed to stumble through the room and get dressed without waking anyone. Diana mumbled once, but since the only intelligible word was 'Peter' Grace gathered she was dreaming about her boyfriend. Again.  
  
She had managed to dig around in her trunk and magically alter some of her clothing so make it suitable for jogging. Grace was now the proud owner of tight fitting, sleek navy-blue runner's leggings and a matching tank top that ended a few inches short of where the leggings began. This was an accident, but Grace had had a hard enough time perfecting the spells and wasn't about to try and make the shirt any longer.  
  
She changed quickly and quietly, then whipped her somewhat unruly red locks into a simple ponytail and grabbed her school bag, which she had stuffed with a bottle of water, a towel, and her wand. Gritting her teeth and forcing her eyes to stay open, she snuck down to the common room, through the corridors, and down to the Great Hall.  
  
The breakfast had just appeared on the table as she arrived. Professor Trelawny and a random fourth year Ravenclaw boy were the only two other souls awake and eating at such a dreadful hour. They shot her a curious glance before returning to their solitary meals. Grace didn't blame them for glancing up, they probably ate alone every morning, not to mention the fact that Grace was known throughout the school as being a passionate believer in starting classes after one o'clock in the afternoon.  
  
Looks like I won't be sleeping in any time soon, Grace thought without much emotion. She stole a few pieces of toast and tossed an orange into her bag, then went out to meet the sunrise.  
  
Grace shivered against the brisk October morning breeze. She shut the large oak door gently then turned around and gasped.  
  
She really HAD come out with the sunrise! The blazing orb was nearly fully up, and a dazzling display of colors lit up the sky, shimmering off the lake and making the dew on the grass sparkle like tiny diamond droplets against the emerald green grass. She took in a deep breath, savoring the very taste of the early morning air, blinked, and then the sun had risen and the sky was clear and blue. Grace smiled. This must be a good omen; fate was with her.  
  
Looking back, Grace would realize how innocent and naïve a silly sixteen-year-old girl could be.  
  
She carefully set her bag down at the foot of the steps and turned to face the wide expanse of the Hogwarts lawns with a look of grim determination. Then she started running.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
It wasn't until James had poured his orange juice that he realized he was alone.  
  
Well, not alone by the technical definition of the term. Classmates and friends surrounded him on all sides, but his two best friends were nowhere to be seen.  
  
Well, again, that wasn't exactly true, but James preferred not to look at the Slytherin table unless it was absolutely necessary.  
  
He helped himself to bacon, toast, and eggs. Perhaps Grace had just slept in even later than usual. The girl was a hopeless grouch any time before 11 AM. It was quite possible that this morning she had simply had a particularly bad case of anti-morning sentiments.  
  
After breakfast, he went to the library. It was a tradition he, Grace, and Angel had had for years. They would go to breakfast and then to the library for about twenty final minutes to try and finish their postponed homework. Once again, he was completely alone. Now slightly annoyed, he gathered his books and headed for his first class of the morning, Transfiguration. He was poring over the chapter they were studying as the rest of the class filed in.  
  
Grace finally literally sprinted in as the bell was ringing. James raised his eyebrows at her. He had never seen his friend look so disheveled! Her uniform was crumpled and in a state of disarray, her hair was damp, and she was wearing absolutely no make up. Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow as she skidded to a halt and took her seat with a sheepish grin.   
  
"What was that about?" James hissed.  
  
"Nothing," Grace replied, dutifully pulling out her quill and taking notes...and ignoring James. Angel shot him an inquisitive look, and James gestured that he would explain later.  
  
He tried to get her to explain all through Transfiguration, but Grace took more notes that class than she ever had in all her years of Transfiguration combined (she had always preferred Potions). When the bell rang she gathered her books and fled from the room down to the dungeons before anyone could catch up with her.  
  
Perhaps if James and Angel weren't so hopeless at Potions Snape wouldn't pay them such special attentions. How they had passed their OWLs James would never know. Steve, James's partner (even more hopeless than James himself) returned for Potions because his mother wanted him too, Angel and James wanted to be Aurors, so they didn't have much choice in the matter. Grace hadn't really chosen a career path, but she was so good at Potions it was natural she should take it again. Angel could get away with okay grades, seeing as she was back to being Grace's partner. However with Steve....James was not so lucky.   
  
Maybe that's why Snape swooped over to them when their potion didn't begin dancing or exploding or chanting in Latin (they had actually succeeded in doing that on complete accident before). He looked at their potion, down at his notes, back at their potion, cast a momentary sneer in their direction and then whipped around to Grace and Angel, who jumped.  
  
"Detention Weasley!" he snapped. "How many times have I forbidden you from helping them?!"  
  
"That's not fair, professor!" James said heatedly. "You can't punish someone for someone else doing their potion RIGHT!"  
  
"James," Grace said quietly, "Just drop it."  
  
"NO!" James snapped in return. "She didn't even help us this time, honestly professor, we did it all by ourselves!"  
  
"Mr. Potter, I'm warning you..." Snape said in a voice like silk.   
  
"James, please," Grace said quietly. "You're only making it worse." James opened his mouth, shut it again, settling for a good glare. Snape smiled insolently and swept back to his desk.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Don't you think people are going to get suspicious if you give me a detention every single day?" Grace drawled as she strolled into the dungeon that evening.  
  
"Eventually we will work out a system," Snape replied smoothly, not missing a beat. Grace scowled at him.  
  
She ran the obstacle course that night. She shaved an entire ten seconds off her time. Woohoo, throw a party, Grace thought sourly.   
  
"Can I go home now?" she begged. After waking up at daybreak she was more than ready to sleep.  
  
"Go home?" Croaker-or Bill, as he had insisted she call him-asked in surprise. "That was only a preliminary exercise. You will begin your real training tonight."  
  
"Real training?" Grace echoed with fear in her voice.   
  
"Of course," Bill said. "You didn't think the Ministry would entrust the training of the backbone of its intelligence unit to one little obstacle course, do you?"  
  
"Little?" Grace muttered, but it was under her breath. They left the hut and Bill started for the main Ministry building.  
  
She was lead through several doors before finding herself in a small, square, and blindingly white room with a long mirror running along one wall and what appeared to be a tall, stuffed mannequin on the opposite side of the door through which she entered. She took a few tentative steps forward, looking around uneasily.  
  
"Um...Professor Snape, I-Professor!" Grace cried in alarm, realizing Snape and Bill had left her alone in the room, shutting the door behind them. She scowled at the door, and then looked around the room. She jumped a foot in the air when she heard a voice come from nowhere. Bill's voice.  
  
"Calm down, Grace, we're going to train you in the practice of the Unforgivables," the Voice explained. Grace nodded dumbly, wondering what that meant. Then the mannequin moved, and Grace realized it had a wand. She squinted at it, trying to decide what was happen, and was worried somewhat belatedly as the wand was carefully aimed in her direction, and the mannequin spoke:  
  
"Crucio."  
  
It was pain of a degree never imagined by Grace Cora Weasley. She was being beaten, slaughtered, burnt, hanged, sliced, murdered, ripped, punched, boiled, hexed, raped, ruined, cursed, forgotten, suffocated, executed, cut, skinned alive, killed... She was dying. She was screaming. She couldn't see...  
  
And suddenly, it stopped. It stopped so suddenly she would have toppled over had she not already been on the ground, having dropped there almost instantaneously after being hit with the curse. She lay there, curled in a tight ball, and cried as she had never cried before. The immediate pain was gone, but she was sore everywhere, sore down in the very marrow of her bones.  
  
Golden eyes flashing, Grace raised her bowed, tearstained face to glare at the mannequin which stood quite still and unaware, its blank face registering nothing. No sympathy, no care, not even hatred. Nothing.  
  
With a cry of anger Grace struggled to her feet, pulling out her own wand and staring at the thing that had caused her so much pain. She had no reservations about killing it. She knew Avada Kedavra would work, seeing as she had used it before. But this thing-this unfeeling, nonliving THING-deserved to suffer as she had done. She aimed her wand and spat the curse.  
  
Power seared through her already pulsing hand as the white curse shot through her wand and hit the mannequin. Nothing happened. It didn't scream. It didn't cry. It didn't writhe and beg for mercy as Grace had done. With a shout of fury she shot the curse again and again.  
  
"Try Imperious," the Voice said. Grace obeyed without thinking, wanting nothing more than to see her offender in pain.   
  
"Imperio!" The icy blue jet hit the unmoving mannequin, but again nothing happened. "Imperio! Crucio! Crucio! Imperio!" Sweat was beading on Grace's forehead as the most powerful and evil curses known to wizardkind leapt from her wand, but she felt no guilt or shame. Only hatred, anger, and the sore, pulsing reminder of her time under the mannequin's hateful curse. "Crucio! Imperio! Damn you, AVADA KEDAVRA!"  
  
The emerald green jet of lightening collided with the mannequin with the force of a locomotive. It burst into millions of pieces, feathers floating around the room. Grace, suddenly exhausted from torture and her first real experiment with the Unforgivables, collapsed.  
  
She was awakened by a loud, constant blaring that got her up and swearing. Looking around, she was somewhat surprised to discover she was in her own bed, with absolutely no memory of how she got there, and the screeching around her was the alarm to wake her for jogging. Groping for her wand, Grace silenced the alarm and forced herself to stand up, then fell almost immediately.  
  
Everything still ached from last night. She was stiff and sore, not to mention grouchy. The very idea of running that morning seemed insane.  
  
However, there was the problem that she was wide-awake. She flexed her muscles tentatively, and sighed. Perhaps a short jog would help.  
  
So, for the second day, Grace dressed, gathered her things, and went down to breakfast just as it appeared. She saw Trelawny, as usual, and today there were three boys from Ravenclaw and one from Hufflepuff. They all stared as she walked in. She gave them a shy smile, grabbed an apple, and headed outside for her jog.  
  
The sunrise was again beautiful. Grace didn't even stop to admire it. After carelessly sliding her bag off her shoulder and placing a simple anti-theft charm on it, she gritted her teeth and began to run.  
  
For the first few moments she could hardly stand the pulsing aches. But after she started, her muscles relaxed, and she found that she actually felt better. Smiling, she upped her pace and began humming to herself. It was about the fourth lap around the castle that Grace realized something that brought her to an abrupt halt.  
  
They ran, trying to hide in the bushes around the front entrance, but she had already spotted them. The four early-rising boys she had seen at breakfast had been, only moments ago, perched on the steps, watching eagerly for her return. Grace cast the quivering bushes a blank stare, and then the realization dawned and she felt her cheeks flame.  
  
Here she was, James Potter's untouchable best friend, in a skimpy outfit running around the school at six in the bloody morning! No wonder there were teenaged boys around!  
  
Grace was tempted to find each and every offender and slap them silly, but stopped to reconsider the situation. She had never felt particularly attractive, and on contemplation she didn't mind being appreciated. What exactly were the boys doing wrong anyway, besides just being teenagers? It wasn't like she was going to stop training for the obstacle course just because a few guys decided to ogle at her as she ran.   
  
Come to think of it, she didn't mind at all.  
  
"Um...I know you're there," she called, and the bush quivered hesitantly. "Don't worry, I'm not going to bite your head off or anything." Tentative eyes and guilty faces appeared from the shrubbery, and Grace smiled. What was wrong with a spot of flirting anyway? James always got in the way.  
  
"I'm just going to take a few cool down laps," she continued. "There's no need to hide in the greenery, I'm here for anyone to see. If I wanted to hide I could. Go ahead, sit on the steps. Next time bring some water, I seem to have forgotten my thermos."  
  
They were utterly amazed at her reaction. With a grin and a suggestive wink, she started off again, and out of the corner of her eye she saw one of the boys run inside to fetch her water. Hmm...   
  
Well, her mornings had just become much more interesting...  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The incessant scratching of quills was enough to drive one absolutely insane. Did every student in the school have an essay due tomorrow? Grace thought sourly. Couldn't they just all go away and leave her and James alone in the library?  
  
...her and James...alone in the library...  
  
Grace felt her cheeks flame and she hid her face in the nearest book, suddenly very appreciative of the myriad of hard working students.  
  
"It's hopeless!" James finally declared, throwing down his quill in disgust. "Flitwick must be raving mad, to assign us four bloody scrolls!"  
  
"We've had nearly a month," Grace pointed out reasonably, staring miserably at her pathetic two and a half scrolls.  
  
"So what?" James replied. "We've got a million other classes besides Charms to worry about-Transfiguration, History, Potions..."  
  
"Don't remind me," Grace replied with a shudder. "We'd be done by now if Angel were here," she continued, making a face. Angel excelled at Charms. How was quite beyond Grace's stretch of imagination. "And I don't see why you're complaining about Transfiguration," she continued. "Everyone knows it's your best subject."  
  
"Yeah, well, I'd trade you," James snapped. "Snape gave me a bloody D on my Polyjuice essay."  
  
"Neither class is relevant," Grace responded hurriedly. She felt that any reference to Snape was now shaky terms. "We're doing Charms at the moment, remember?"  
  
"Right," he sighed. For a few moments they tried to return to the essay, but they weren't getting anywhere. Suddenly, James let out a miniature growl of frustration. "Damn it, Angel, where are you?"  
  
"Off with dear Flint, of course," Grace responded bitterly, giving her paper the glare she would have gladly transferred to her cousin's evil bloody boyfriend.  
  
"Au contraire," a voice replied in perfect French. Grace spun around in her chair to see Angel, with a particularly smug smile, saunter over to their table and sit next to James. "Now, what seems to be the problem that you are driving yourselves mad to see me?" she continued, batting her eyelashes. Grace grabbed a parchment she had compressed to a ball in frustration and threw it at Angel, who just laughed. "Seriously, guys, what's the big deal?"  
  
"Big deal?" James replied unbelievingly. "Angel, have you forgotten about this essay? It's due Friday!"  
  
"Oh that," Angel replied after glancing at James' parchment. "I finished that weeks ago. Mine's five and a half scrolls," she added with relish.  
  
"We're worried about the four scroll minimum, Silver," Grace replied, rolling her eyes. Angel laughed.  
  
"Okay, okay, I know. Well..." Grace and James let her at it, and Angel took full opportunity while the other two jotted down facts as quickly and in the largest handwriting possible. They were actually getting some work done when they were rudely interrupted by an owl which descended upon them, dropped an envelope in Grace's lap, hooted loudly, and took off through the open window that allowed its entrance in the first place. Grace stared blankly at the message on her lap.  
  
"Well are you going to open it or what?" Angel demanded in exasperation. Grace shook herself out of the trance and obeyed the implied command. The epistle was, to say the least, extraordinarily odd.  
  
Miss Weasley;  
  
Your head of house, Professor McGonagall, has informed me that you wish to study Potions after graduation in your seventh year. I would like to point out to you the amount of dedication and work this will require. If you are serious about these aspirations I will consider privately instructing you on a more difficult and precise level of potion making. If you wish to take advantage of this offer, which I only give to one student annually, you may discuss it with me this evening at your convenience.  
  
Professor Severus Snape  
  
"Well?" James's annoyed voiced snapped through Grace's haze of astonishment. "What does it say?"  
  
Without comment Grace handed the parchment over. She couldn't speak; her mind was whirling at a hundred miles a minute. Of course, it was brilliant. If she was taking an "advanced potions" class, it would be a plausible excuse to disappear for a few hours every night for training. When the hell did Snape get so bloody brilliant?  
  
"You aren't possibly considering taking him up on this offer, are you?" Angel demanded incredulously.   
  
"Why not?" Grace snapped defensively. "It's a unique opportunity."  
  
"Yeah but...but...willingly taking extra classes with...with SNAPE!" James sounded genuinely distressed over the thought of his friend doomed to such a fate. Grace laughed.  
  
"Oh honestly, he can't be that bad without the Slytherins there to favor," she pointed out. "Taking extra classes with Snape can't be any worse than dating a Flint," she added with a teasing glance at her cousin, who simply rolled her eyes.  
  
"Yes it could," she muttered.  
  
"Well, I don't believe I would pass up such a rare opportunity," Grace said with a sigh, standing and starting to collect her things.   
  
"You...you're not...serious, are you?" James demanded, his jaw hanging in shock.  
  
"Why wouldn't I be?" Grace asked, shouldering her bag. With a wave at her dumbstruck companions she turned and exited the library, trying not to run as she approached the dungeons. She and Snape had a lot to talk about. She walked in without knocking, knowing she would be received with a sarcastic comment either way. She was somewhat surprised to see he wasn't in his classroom until she heard noises from the office.  
  
"Do you really offer an Advanced Potions class?" Grace demanded, causing her professor to jump and swear under his breath.  
  
"You sneak like a Slytherin," he said, sounding more surprised than annoyed. "And yes, but usually to seventh years only."  
  
"Slytherin seventh years only," Grace smirked.  
  
"Tonight we will begin Occlumency," Snape continued as if he hadn't been interrupted.   
  
"Occlumency?" Grace echoed. "Blocking your mind from Legilimency, you mean?"  
  
"Yes," Snape replied, sounding surprised. "How did you know..."  
  
"My dad has been training me in Occlumency since I was nine years old. He always told me it was one of the most useful talents one could possess," she explained, then added, with a blush of modesty, "Dad says I'm a natural."  
  
"You would be," Snape muttered. "Both of your parents are masters."  
  
"Oh yes," Grace nodded. "But Mum doesn't agree with Dad about teaching me," she shrugged. "I also know the basics of Legilimency."  
  
"Oh. Hmph," Snape mumbled, producing, seemingly from nowhere, a pouch of floo powder and tossing it into the fire roaring in the grate. "William Croaker!"  
  
"Why hello, Severus," Bill's head replied from the fire a few moments later. "What's the deal? I thought you were going to begin training Grace in Occlumency tonight."  
  
"I was," Snape replied, sarcasm heavy in his voice. "But it appears that Ron has taken care of that for me," Bill looked at Grace (who was blushing from all the attention over something she had always thought was normal for magical children) in surprise.  
  
"Well then, I guess we should just concentrate on curses, hexes, and the obstacle course," Bill replied. Sighing in defeat and cursing herself for telling them she already mastered Occlumency, Grace climbed into the fire and found herself, once again, facing the course.  
  
"I can't DO this," she whined as she entered the shack for the third night in a row.   
  
"Don't be ridiculous," Snape scoffed, entering with Bill behind her. "It is all a matter of mind over matter."  
  
"Yeah, whatever," she muttered. Snape just rolled his eyes, but Bill appeared more sympathetic.   
  
"Don't worry about it, Grace," he said kindly. "I believe you are frightened. Now what is there to be scared of, really?"  
  
Grace turned her gaze from the Unspeakable back up to the obstacle course. In her mind, the pavement and tunnels and ropes and chains all formed together suddenly as if to make a huge, monstrous dragon. Then she suddenly had the idea of this dragon storming Diagon Alley, its giant foot smashing Madame Malkin's as wizards and witches ran past screaming in Japanese.  
  
Or not.  
  
"What are you grinning at?" Snape snapped suddenly, pulling Grace from her...amusing thoughts.   
  
"Oh nothing," she replied, and decided that Bill was right, after all it was just an obstacle course.  
  
She imagined the four boys standing next to Bill, and smirked. It was time to show off. She bolted.  
  
"I do believe she will be ready sooner than you thought," Bill muttered as Grace came sprinting past, bringing her time from sixteen minutes to eleven. The professor scowled, and Grace grinned.  
  
"How'd I do?" she panted.  
  
"Better," Snape replied before Bill could say anything. "I believe we need to address something we've all neglected to consider."  
  
"Such as...?" Bill raised his bushy eyebrows.   
  
"Do you really think we can pull this off without informing one or more of your superiors, Bill?" Snape replied coolly, watching as the reaction of his words set in. Grace's eyes were wide with fear and Bill had become a unique shade of green.  
  
"But...but..." Grace stuttered.  
  
"I do believe that Virginia Malfoy is the Head of the Department of Mysteries, is she not?" Snape continued.  
  
"But...she's my aunt!" Grace finally wailed.  
  
"She'll kill me," Bill replied.  
  
"And the Minister-"  
  
"No," Grace interrupted in a voice so firm both men were surprised. Realizing she had their attention she continued in a less convinced voice, "I understand why Aunt Ginny has to be told, it makes sense. But Harry does NOT need to know. He is my godfather and will not look at things reasonably. Even with the knowledge of the absolute necessity of secrecy he will tell Hermione, and Hermione will convince him to tell my parents. It's too dangerous."  
  
"She's right, you know," Bill pointed out, looking down at the sixteen-year-old girl with new respect.   
  
"Yes, I believe she is," Snape replied, "Yes she is."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Time became obsolete for Grace Weasley as the days of October began to melt away. She was still running every morning, and it amused her to see how the boys on the castle steps multiplied. By midway through the month thirty-five met outside every morning. Some brought homework and almost all brought food.  
  
Grace was actually amused when they made it a morning tradition to take her thermos and make her guess who had it. It required only the most basic legilimency to hack into their minds enough to discover who had hidden her thermos. They were always amazed when she guessed on the first try.  
  
It was after several long and heated debates that Grace and her trainers arrived at a compromise for telling Mrs. Ginny Malfoy about her niece's undercover involvement with the Death Eaters. It was decided that she would have to be informed after it was too late to back out, and therefore after Grace had approached the Dark Lord and requested entry into his circle. What was poor, unsuspecting Ginny to say?  
  
This meant that plans couldn't really go forward until Grace had run the obstacle course in the seven-minute minimum. Snape had every hope that this would take a long time, but he had, not for the first time in his life, underestimated the stubborn determination of a Weasley.  
  
Training continued as scheduled. Occlumency was no longer an issue, so in addition to the obstacle course and the Unspeakables (which became more bearable as time went one), Grace was instructed in the art of Apparition. It wasn't as difficult as she had been lead to believe, and Snape somehow made her Apparating untraceable, so the Ministry couldn't catch her for Apparating without a license.  
  
Halloween was still nearly two weeks away, and Grace was becoming more distant from her peers than ever. Angel, infatuated and spending nearly all her time with Tom, hardly noticed. James, however, was getting worried. Inquiry produced no results, however, so he came to the conclusion that it must be Advanced Potions. Extra Snape was enough to make anyone snappy. The one thing that really annoyed him was the simple fact that the daily tradition of meeting in the Library after breakfast seemed to have disappeared entirely. Angel ate with Tom, and he had no idea where Grace went every morning.   
  
Grace was even snappier than normal that day. She seemed to have given up on cosmetics, not that James cared particularly. He thought Grace (and Angel, he reminded himself) was pretty enough without make-up. However, he couldn't help but wonder if she'd always had those dark circles under her eyes, or if she had hidden them before.  
  
Care of Magical Creatures was their last class that day. Hagrid had babbled happily about chimeras, and the class breathed a sigh of relief when he expressed his regrets that he couldn't find one to show the class. They were safe-for then, anyway.  
  
Grace hardly touched her dinner then plodded up to the Gryffindor common room without saying a word. That's it, James thought, something's wrong with her. Grace was always happy-go-lucky, talking a mile a minute and gesturing enthusiastically at the same time. Seeing her trudge up the steps as if she had the whole world on her back was like a blaring red flag to her concerned friend.  
  
"Grace?" he asked tentatively as she dropped into the nearest armchair.  
  
"What?" she demanded, rummaging through her bag.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing," Her voice made it clear that the discussion was closed.  
  
"Gold, I really think something's wrong,"  
  
"It's none of your business, all right?" she snapped, eyes flashing with anger. James took a step back and raised his hands defensively.   
  
"All right, all right, I'm sorry..." he frowned as she stood up, shouldering her bag. "Where are you going?"  
  
"Advanced Potions," she replied, her eyebrows raised.  
  
"Oh," he replied, feeling stupid. "Right." She rolled her eyes and stomped off, and James knew she was royally pissed. However, at the moment he didn't care.  
  
It was just occurring to him that Grace Weasley was very pretty when she was upset, with her strange golden eyes flashing and her fiery hair in her face, her mouth and chin stubbornly set with an irresistible pout...  
  
Pull it together, Potter!  
  
Grace meanwhile, was storming down to the dungeons. In the back of her mind she felt guilty for snapping at James, who after all had done nothing wrong. The thought was, however, at the back of her mind, and in the foreground was the thought that she had to run the stupid bloody obstacle course...AGAIN!  
  
Snape was waiting, and they didn't even exchange greetings. Grace dropped her bag on the floor, threw floo powder into the roaring fire, and demanded to be taken to Croaker's Place. She stepped out of the fire into the now familiar office and heard Snape follow.  
  
"Let's get going then," Bill said, heaving himself to his feet with a sigh and leading the way out to the shack, even though by this point Grace could've found the place in her sleep. She'd been there every night for weeks.  
  
Looking up the hill, she clenched her fists and prepared herself for the run. Tonight was the night, she told herself. Last night she was at seven minutes, twenty-one and a half seconds. Tonight was the night.  
  
"On you mark-"  
  
Tonight was the night.  
  
"Get set-"  
  
Tonight was the night.  
  
"GO!"  
  
Grace took off like a bullet, running through the rain and up the hill with a speed Bill had never witnessed before.   
  
"Severus?" he said, his mouth fairly hanging open.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I do believe this may be our last night here."  
  
The two men stood in silence, waiting for the black-clad figure to return. When she did sprint pass them, Bill clicked his stopwatch and stared. Grace returned, panting, demanding a time. Bill was looking not at Grace, but at Severus as he answered.  
  
"Six minutes, forty-two seconds."  
  
"YES!" Grace screamed, pumping a fist into the air even as Snape let out a breath of air and looked as if his mother had just died. "I did it! I DID IT!"  
  
"She did it," Bill said in a dead voice, looking at her happiness in sorrow of what was now going to begin.   
  
"Yes," Severus replied, imagining the joyous face bowed under the Dark Lord's wrath. Shuddering, he turned away and tried to forget his past which the innocent Gryffindor girl had just pulled into blindingly white light.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Grace collapsed into bed that night, her body exhausted but her mind wide-awake. She had completed the goal for which she had strived so long that in her celebration she had nearly forgotten that it was not the end, but the beginning.  
  
The next step, she reminded herself, was getting in contact with Voldemort. How in the hell does one get in contact with the Dark Lord? It wasn't like you went up, rang a doorbell and demanded of a butler in long black robes an audience with the most feared wizard of all time.  
  
Grace highly doubted that Lord Voldemort had a butler.  
  
However, she reminded herself, he does have several willing slaves who grovel at his feet. She was working hard to become one. The obvious solution to her problem was to get to the Dark Lord through a Death Eater. But who?  
  
Her mind immediately went to Tom Flint, but she vetoed the idea. As Head Boy, Flint had too much to risk and would probably prefer to hand her over to the authorities and risk his master's wrath than admit to being a Death Eater. If nothing else he would certainly tell Angel and Grace didn't even want to think about where THAT would lead.  
  
Not Tom Flint, Grace thought suddenly, but Damian...  
  
It was perfect. She knew Damian Flint was a Death Eater, she had heard him talking about it to Blair Zabini. And he was arrogant enough to present her to the Dark Lord as if she were a gift. She could imagine it now.  
  
Grace smiled in a way that would send shivers down the backs of many. She had a date with Damian Flint.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Potions was a class that hardly any of the students of Hogwarts were good at and which almost none liked. It was not unusual to see students trudging down to the dungeons as if to their deaths, especially if their ties were scarlet and gold. The Hufflepuffs weren't usually too happy either.  
  
Grace was convinced that Snape purposefully arranged his classes so that the Slytherins and Gryffindors were in the same double lesson so that he could favor his house and sneer at their enemies at the same time. However, for the first time in her life, this inconvenience would prove to her advantage.  
  
She awoke with her alarm, and briefly contemplated returning to the land of slumber. After all, there was really no need to awaken at sunrise to run if she had already finished her obstacle course. However, nearly against her will she had grown to like the feel of the morning air on her face and the early sunrise on the dew, not to mention the hoard of boys who were basically at her beck and call. They were not to be disappointed!  
  
Smiling, she dressed. Really, though, her ritual morning run was about more than flirting. It was a time for her to reflect, to think, to clear her head before the day began. And...for flirting. Hey, hormones will be hormones!  
  
She didn't even bother going into the Great Hall. Gregory Scotch, a fifth year Hufflepuff, was holding a plate of toast and fruit for her when she began to descend the steps. Smiling, she took a piece of the toast and an apple, talking with him and a few of his friends as she ate. Sarius Vionne, a fourth year Slytherin, had an entire pitcher of orange juice. After offering a glass to Grace, which she accepted with thanks and a smile, he poured several more for everyone around him. She smiled as he handed a cup to third year Gryffindor Roy Dublinson. Perhaps she was doing some good after all.  
  
She waved at "her boys", as she had now begun to think of them, and took off for her run. Finishing her cool down laps she retrieved her thermos from fourth year Hufflepuff Darren Battles-"How do you guess on the first try EVERY TIME?" he whined-and hurried upstairs to change.  
  
She had finished earlier than usual, but that was all to the good. She needed to get down to the dungeons as quickly as possible and corner Damian Flint. She dressed, brushed her hair and frowned as she glanced in the mirror. She didn't really have time for make-up any more, with running and all, but she took the time that morning to hide the circles under her eyes. She was beginning to look like she was wearing goggles or something!  
  
She sprinted down the stairs, taking pains to avoid colliding with various persons along the way. She jogged to the dungeons, and was not surprised to see Damian Flint and some of his goons standing around. A quick glance down the corridor assured her that there were no Gryffindors around. She smiled. Excellent.  
  
"Flint," she called in a demanding voice, appearing seemingly from nowhere to the Slytherins. The one in question started then narrowed his eyes at his enemy.  
  
"What the hell do you want, Weasley?" he sneered. "No Potter around to speak up for you?"  
  
"I don't need anyone to speak for me," Grace replied smoothly. "And I wanted to talk to you." The Slytherins murmured between themselves, looking at Flint to see what he would do. After looking at them and looking at the Gryffindor, he sneered, muttered a few words Grace couldn't hear but caused his friends to snicker, and then sauntered over to where she stood. She led him around the corner where his goons couldn't see or hear.  
  
"What is it, Weasley?" he asked lazily. Grace met his eye.  
  
"You are a Death Eater," she replied factually. He raised an eyebrow.  
  
"And what, you want a written confession to take to Dumbledore or something? Please," Flint sounded disgusted. Grace rolled her eyes.  
  
"I'm not going to tattle to that old-fashioned busy-body," she snapped in reply.  
  
"Your parents, then?" he continued.   
  
"My parents are weak," Grace replied. For the first time in the conversation, Flint looked interested. She saw this and smiled inwardly as she continued, to his mounting disbelief, "They're always preaching this bullshit about good and evil, right and wrong. They're so high and bloody mighty. I've come around to another way of thinking. Why bother with this imaginary 'right and wrong' when there's power just waiting to be had? I agree with you, Flint. Lord Voldemort knows what he's doing."  
  
"But...but..." Flint realized he was stuttering and strove to compose himself. "You're a Mudblood lover!"  
  
"I?" she scoffed. "I am a pureblood witch and proud of it, Flint. The Weasleys are one of the oldest wizarding families in the world, predating even the Flints, I believe. And the Michaels' are almost as pure."  
  
"Your boyfriend is a Mudblood," Flint snapped. Grace raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Firstly, James Potter is not my boyfriend. I would NEVER even consider a man like him, as full of shit as my parents are. Secondly, his mother was a Mudblood, he's only a quarter Muggle. Not that that brings him up to OUR standard, mind you, but I would never even tolerate his presence if his parents weren't of our kind."  
  
"What do you want?" Flint asked warily, looking at Grace as if she were a bomb about to explode.  
  
"One thing, Flint," Grace smiled coldly. "I want to serve the Dark Lord. And I want you to take me to him." She watched his reaction in satisfaction. For a moment she was sure he was going to faint.  
  
"You...YOU want to be a Death Eater?" he gaped.  
  
"Is that so hard to believe?" she replied. "After all these years of dealing with my parents and their lectures and rules and regulations about nothing at all, I'm ready to turn. Take me to Voldemort, Flint."  
  
"You have no idea what you're getting yourself into," he cautioned.  
  
"Probably true," Grace shrugged. "But that's not the point. When should I meet you?"  
  
Flint looked down the corridor, as if someone had just appeared to listen, then whispered, "Eleven o'clock, the Shrieking Shack. Be there."  
  
"Oh I will," she promised. Just then they heard voices and footsteps heralding the arrival of the Gryffindors, and Flint disappeared around the corner just in time.  
  
"Hey, Gold, you're here early," Steve remarked.  
  
"I think you're just here late," she replied, smiling. "Far too late."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Actually, Flint was late, by a good ten minutes. Grace was extraordinarily annoyed by the time he finally showed up, tapping her foot and looking down at her wrist pointedly. He pretended not to notice.  
  
"Can you Apparate?" he demanded.  
  
"Yeah," she replied, in a 'duh' voice.  
  
"Fine then," he said, sounding insulted. "Apparate to Platform 9 3/4."   
  
"Why?" Grace demanded.  
  
"Just do it!" he demanded, his eyes flashing in anger. Rolling her eyes, Grace obeyed, feeling the familiar lurch as the ground suddenly feel from her feet and just as suddenly reappeared. She opened her eyes and found herself in the very familiar, very empty platform. Flint arrived only seconds later.  
  
"What is the point of this?" she drawled.   
  
"You can't Apparate to the master's presence if you don't bear his mark," Flint explained in a superior tone. "We will take the portkey." He strode over the corner and gestured to one of the bricks.  
  
"A brick?" Grace said, skepticism dripping from her words.   
  
"Don't question the Dark Lord, Weasley," he snapped. "This is only used during the school year when the platform is deserted and there is no chance of someone accidentally stumbling upon it. Hurry up!" Grace regarded him with mounting dislike, but followed his instructions. They both touched the portkey and she felt a tug behind her navel and was pulled forward. Upon landing, she managed to stay upright and tried to get oriented to her surroundings.  
  
The first thing she noticed was the bitter cold. The moon was hidden behind thick, ominous clouds and the grass was already frosted wherever they were. She was about to address a particularly scathing comment to Flint when a presence even colder than the landscape silenced her. Mind focused on Occlumency and fear in her eyes, Grace Weasley turned to behold a tall, cloaked figure.  
  
Lord Voldemort.  
  
She couldn't see his face, but she didn't really need to. He was frightening enough, with the anonymous black cloak and long, tapered fingers. She didn't have to use much imagination to conjure the image of white skull and red slit eyes from her parents' stories.   
  
"Who is this, Mr. Flint?" the Dark Lord demanded, and Grace forced herself not to shiver.  
  
"A servant who wishes to join you, Master," Flint replied, bowing so low to the ground Grace thought he would get frost in his hair. "Grace Weasley,"  
  
Grace followed Flint's example and bowed deeply, well aware of the Dark Lord's eyes on her figure the entire time. Doubts were nagging in the back of her mind, but she forced them away as she looked up at the hooded figure, using all of her power to block his mind from hers.  
  
"You are the daughter of the traitor Ronald Weasley?" a voice hissed, and Grace found it difficult to hide her surprise. The voice was not high-pitched as she had been told, but baritone and cold as a Siberian wind-and slightly familiar.  
  
"Yes," Grace replied. There was no point in lying about THAT.  
  
"But you wish to join me?"   
  
"Yes."  
  
The figure leaned forward, and Grace met its blank stare unblinkingly. After a moment it suddenly straightened, turning its attention to Flint as Grace struggled not to make her relief too obvious.  
  
"Take her to a bonfire," he instructed. "There is no time to train her properly. Bring her to me on Halloween."  
  
"Yes, Master," Flint replied. Clearly dismissed, they bowed and Apparated to Hogsmeade.  
  
Flint started for Hogwarts without pausing long enough to even look at Grace. That was probably all for the best, seeing as she nearly emulated relief and distress. After a few moments of just breathing to compose herself, she followed his example and returned to the castle. She had climbed all the stairs and finally reached her bed when she saw a letter on her pillow. After reading it she swore under her breath. Snape wanted her the moment she returned.  
  
Casting a longing look at her bed, she started on the long trek down the staircases to the dungeons. The door was unlocked, and Grace didn't knock on the door to his office either, hoping to annoy him as much as possible. However, he looked more worried than annoyed.  
  
"Are you okay?" he demanded.  
  
"Of course I'm okay," she replied irritably. "What is all this about."  
  
"You have to see Croaker."  
  
"Now?" she whined.  
  
"Yes, now!" the professor snapped.  
  
"Ugh!" Grace declared, throwing her hands up in frustration. She grabbed a pinch of floo powder and declared "Croaker's Place," in a loud and confident voice. She walked into his office talking.  
  
"Can we get this over with, Bill? I just got back from a meeting with good old Voldemort and I need my beauty sleep. Damian Flint was-"  
  
"Grace?" A familiar, feminine voice interrupted. Grace felt her blood turn to ice as she looked up to Bill, and standing next to him with her mouth and eyes wide...  
  
Ginny Malfoy.  
  
Disclaimer: The idea of a giant dragon-like creature trampling buildings inhabited by Japanese speaking people belongs to Godzilla. Thank you. 


	6. Initiation

A/N: Haha! I promised I wouldn't make you wait as long for the next chapter. It isn't quite as long as ch4 but that's okay! ^_^ Warning: I don't know when I'll get to chapter 6, school starts in less than a week and I have a killer class load this year. But there are always weekends! ^_~ Um...you may have noticed that I've upped the rating on this story to PG 13. I seriously want to stress that this story is inappropriate for readers under 13, there is some serious imagery ahead. You have been warned! And without further ado..........  
  
Chapter Five:  
  
Initiation  
  
~To walk within the lines  
  
Would make my life so boring  
  
I want to know that I   
  
Have been to the extreme  
  
So knock me off my feet  
  
Come on now give it to me  
  
Anything to make me feel alive~  
  
*Avril Lavigne's "Anything but Ordinary"  
  
"Aunt...aunt Gin...Ginny..." Grace found herself stuttering, her brain suddenly frozen at the sight of her aunt after making that loud and confident self-condemning statement about her meeting with the Dark Lord.   
  
"What the hell is going on here?" Ginny asked, her voice steady, as she turned slowly to face Bill, who was trying with all his being to appear calm.  
  
"Severus and I have decided to reinstate the undercover Death Eater spy program," he replied.  
  
"You and Severus..." Ginny repeated, her voice unnaturally soft. "Mr. Croaker, you do realize that any project you have in mind needs to be passed through me for authorization, don't you? And why the HELL did you decide to use my niece?"  
  
"I-"  
  
"I can explain, Aunt Ginny," Grace interrupted a now very pale Bill. "You see, it was my idea."  
  
"Your idea?" she echoed.  
  
"Yes. I was thinking about...well, Voldemort's return and everything, and I decided that I needed to, you know, DO something to help. So I was thinking about what my parents did and decided that-"  
  
"You're telling me," Ginny interrupted, her eyes wide with disbelief. "That you just woke up one morning and thought to yourself, hey, I think I want to be an undercover Death Eater today!"  
  
"Not exactly," Grace replied in a very small voice.   
  
"Not exactly? Not exactly!" Ginny continued in mounting fury. "Do you think you can just waltz right into his ranks, Grace? Being a Death Eater isn't a walk in the park, you know."  
  
"I am well aware of what I'm getting myself into," Grace argued stubbornly. Ginny studied her sixteen-year-old niece and sighed heavily.  
  
"No you don't," she said miserably. "No you don't."  
  
"Aunt Ginny-" Grace tried again.  
  
"No, Grace. I simply cannot-"  
  
"You don't understand-"  
  
"No, you don't understand-"  
  
"Mrs. Malfoy," Bill interrupted in a voice louder than was strictly necessary, "She performed the killing curse on the first try."  
  
"You what?" Ginny whispered after a moment of uneasy silence, her unbelieving gaze fixed on her niece.   
  
"I know...I know it's crazy," Grace said, "But I know I'm doing the right thing. Think about it, Aunt Ginny. Think of all the things I can do for the Light side. I can help. I can matter."  
  
"You think that you have to kill yourself to matter?" Ginny snapped.  
  
"My parents didn't die," Grace replied reasonably.  
  
"If they had it to do over they wouldn't," Ginny responded.  
  
"Wouldn't they?" Grace asked, looking up at her aunt with wide and unknowingly innocent eyes. Ginny opened her mouth, then shut it and turned from her niece, her face in her hands.  
  
"Look, Ginny-"  
  
"I know, Bill," Ginny sighed, not looking around, and Grace felt hope rise her chest. "I know you have the best intentions, but-"  
  
"The path to hell is paved by good intentions," Grace interrupted suddenly. It was one of her mother's favorite sayings.  
  
"Exactly," Ginny nodded, "And that's where you're headed."  
  
"I know," Grace replied. "Please, Aunt Ginny. If it were anyone else...you can't say no just because I'm your niece. There are bigger things at stake."  
  
"And what am I to tell the Minister?" Ginny asked, avoiding a denial or acquiescence.   
  
"Just don't!" Grace snapped. "Why does Harry need to know, really? You, Bill, Dumbledore, and Snape--that's plenty of people if you ask me."  
  
"But..." Ginny argued weakly.  
  
"Harry will tell Hermione, Hermione will tell my father," Grace continued ruthlessly. "Face it, we have no choice."  
  
"What will you do if I say no?" Ginny asked, annoyed with the comment about having no choice.  
  
"Keep with it," Grace replied immediately and stubbornly. Ginny sighed.  
  
"Bill..." she looked at her former partner, who heaved a heavy sigh.  
  
"We ran her through the obstacle course, the Unforgivables, curses, counter-curses, and Apparition in the last month and she's basically mastered everything."  
  
"No Occlumency?!" Ginny demanded, looking horrified.  
  
"It appears," Bill replied, a twinkle in his eye, "That Ron has taken care of that for us."  
  
"Ron taught you..." Ginny looked at Grace in surprised.  
  
"I thought every magical child learned Occlumency," Grace mumbled. "Didn't you or Uncle Draco teach Angel and Phil...?"  
  
"Of course not!" Ginny replied, looking scandalized. "We would never have taught them such magic as children."  
  
"Oh," Grace muttered. "Well Dad insisted...Mum wasn't too keen on it, but..."  
  
"Stop, just stop," Ginny interrupted, turning again. "Bill, I guess if she's already approached the Dark Lord..." she sighed. "Go to sleep, Grace. It seems you already have matters well in hand. Goodnight."  
  
"Thank you, Aunt Ginny," Grace whispered. She through in a pinch of floo powder and did as her aunt had requested. Ginny watched the swirling green flames engulfed her favorite brother's only child.   
  
"Bill-" she began.  
  
"I know," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You should go home, Gin. Severus and I will look after her the best we can."  
  
"But what if-"  
  
"There are too many 'ifs' in this game, you know that. We really can't stop her, you know that don't you?"  
  
"Yes, but she knows it too. That's what scares me."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Bright scarlet birds flew through a bright blue sky. The entire Weasley family was sprawled across the grass on picnic blankets. Everyone was eating vanilla pudding. Grace looked up and saw James sit down next to her, his smile wide and the wind attractively blowing his deep, rich brown hair, his emerald eyes looking deep into hers. He looked down at her and Grace felt her heart skip. "Miss Weasley," he said, and Grace frowned. It looked like James, but his voice sounded strangely like...  
  
"Miss Weasley,"  
  
Professor McGonagall?  
  
"Miss Weasley!"   
  
Grace started and opened her eyes to see a very irate Transfiguration professor. She looked around and realized she had been sleeping on her desk. The students around her were snickering.  
  
"Yes, Professor?" she asked sheepishly.  
  
"I just asked you why it is necessary to configure the backbone of a chameleon to continue transfiguring it to a teacup, but as you were obviously indisposed I believe you owe me a detention tonight. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
"Yes, professor," she squeaked. Internally she was furious. Sure, Transfiguration was boring, but how could she have possibly fallen asleep. Just then, the bell rang.  
  
"I expect an essay on skeletal transfiguration next Tuesday," the professor said over the normal scraping of chairs and books.  
  
"Tough luck," James muttered to Grace.  
  
"Yeah," she replied.  
  
"Don't you have Advanced Potions tonight?" Angel asked as they began their track to the dungeons.  
  
"Yes," she sighed. "I'm sure he'll understand."  
  
"Snape? Understand?" Angel made a face. "I think those potion fumes have gone to your brain, Gold."  
  
"I think you have some ink on your face," James said, frowning at her.   
  
"I don't care," Grace muttered. She stomped into Potions, her two friends following with sympathetic faces.  
  
  
  
That night at dinner Grace received an owl informing her that for her detention at 8:00 she was to meet...  
  
Grace felt herself smile and sigh with relief. Professor S. Snape.  
  
"Well, I guess he can't be mad about Potions then, can he?" Angel asked, making a face.  
  
"Guess not," Grace replied, trying to get a hold of herself. "He probably asked McGonagall if he could have the detention so he could actually MAKE me clean the cauldrons. I always find an excuse."  
  
"That's so weird that you have an extra class with him," James shook his head. Grace just shrugged.  
  
When she arrived in the dungeons for her detention and still debating whether or not to knock, she discovered the door was already open. Shrugging, she followed the now familiar path to Severus's office, wondering what was in store for her tonight.  
  
Grace suddenly got a vision of Snape in a long, frilly, bright pink tea dress with glasses studded with rhinestones on the end of his nose, looking at the clipboard that held survey questions on her opinion of his new line of skin treatment products: Smooth Sevie.  
  
Or not.  
  
"And what, might one ask, has put such a ridiculous grin on your face?" Snape demanded as she stepped inside. Reassured by the sight of his custom long black robes, Grace sat in the nearest greed chair, which was unoccupied and comfortable-in a Slytherin sort of way.  
  
"Oh, nothing," she replied. Snape raised an eyebrow as if he didn't believe her, but changed the topic.  
  
"Seeing as I had no Hufflepuffs today I am afraid there are no cauldrons for you to scour, so I have prepared an alternative."  
  
"A survey?" Grace asked, snickering at her own inside joke.  
  
"I beg your pardon?" Snape looked confused.  
  
"Never mind," she giggled. "You were saying?"  
  
"I wanted to use this opportunity to allow you to ask any questions you have," he said stiffly. Grace looked at him in mild surprise. It had never occurred to her to ask Snape a question of any kind.  
  
"Once I have the Dark Mark, how can I hide it?" she asked, blurting out her first thought.  
  
"The Dark Mark cannot be magically hidden. However, the use of Muggle cosmetics altered by a simple strengthening charm will suffice, unless you are summoned in which case the cosmetics will probably fail to hide the mark. I know its what your mother used at Harry Potter's wedding."  
  
"What do I do if I'm summoned during class?"  
  
"Run like hell and later claim you were sick and had to find a loo to throw up in," Snape replied, not so poetically. Grace frowned, wondering what else she really needed to know.  
  
Well, there was one thing...one thing she had often wondered about since her parents had told her the story of their time as Death Eaters. One thing that had often kept her up at night thinking...  
  
"Why couldn't my dad's love save my mum?" she asked after only a moment's hesitation. Snape looked quite taken aback.  
  
"Pardon me?"  
  
"When my mother was pierced by the Dagger of Certain Death...why did my love have to save her? Why couldn't Dad's?"  
  
"Well..." Snape sighed and put his face in his hands, mumbling more to himself than to her. "As if it's that simple or I even understand love at all..." He looked up at her anxious face and sighed.  
  
"Miss Weasley, I think the question you truly wish answered is whether or not your parents love each other at all. Yes, there is a magical binding to the Dark Lord that prevents Death Eaters from magically loving, but real love cannot be hindered by magic."  
  
"What?" she asked, more confused than ever.  
  
"You see...love is a very powerful thing," Snape explained slowly. "Or so I've been told. It didn't take ancient wizards very long to realize that the power of love can be harnessed for magical purposes. So Voldemort's spell does not prevent the Death Eater from loving, only from allowing the love he or she might have to be harnessed in a magical fashion. To Voldemort the only practical use of love is its magical abilities, so in his mind he has actually prevented his followers from loving."  
  
"Oh," Grace said several moments later. "I guess I understand."  
  
"Any other impertinent questions, Miss Weasley?" Snape asked. Grace was tempted to inform him that it had been his idea in the first place, but she still had one more question in mind.  
  
"When you first became a spy, who were your partners?"  
  
"Enough!" Snape roared, looking furious. "That has absolutely no relevance to your current situation and I refuse to allow a teenaged busybody to pry in such a manner. No more question and answer session for tonight-or any other night for that matter."  
  
"But professor, I still have an hour and a half of detention to go," she pointed out.   
  
"Well, McGonagall got you for sleeping her class, didn't she? Go to sleep!" Snape commanded, waving his wand and turning the chair next to Grace's into a bed. "I'll wake you when it is time for you to return to Gryffindor common room. Grace wanted to argue, but the tilt of her professor's eyebrows warned her that this would not be a good idea. So she lied down and suddenly remembered how very tired she was. Grateful beyond words, she fell into a deep sleep almost immediately.  
  
Snape awoke her only too quickly. She said goodbye in tones muffled by tiredness and began the trek up to the common room, cursing the tower for being so far away. She was just about to exit the dungeons when she was intercepted by a figure she couldn't quite make out in the darkness.  
  
"Weasley?" the figure demanded. Grace allowed her eyes to adjust to the shadows in which he stood, and realized she had been addressed by none other than Damian Flint.  
  
"Yes," she replied. "What do you want, Flint?"  
  
"What are you doing down here?" he asked, ignoring her question.  
  
"Detention with Snape," she snapped. "Can I go now?"  
  
"Just a minute, Weasley," he said, taking a step forward. Grace shivered. "The Bonfire is next Thursday night. Meet me at the Shrieking Shack at ten."  
  
"I'll be there," she replied, forcing her voice to be steady. He nodded, then turned on heel and marched away. Grace looked after him, cold to the very marrow of her bones with a chill that had nothing to do with the dungeon shadows.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Thursday came altogether too quickly for Grace. She was completely unprepared for the so-called "Bonfire" and was practically shaking by the time she got to dinner, which she ate none of. The very sight of food was making her ill. She excused herself early and tried to do some homework, as if she could concentrate. Her grades were beginning to slip, but under the circumstances she didn't particularly care.   
  
She left the common room that night with her bag over her shoulder as if she were going to Advanced Potions. She dropped the bag in the dungeon, which Snape had conveniently left open, and pulled out her cloak. She had no mask of any kind, and was actually rather puzzled as to what to do without one.  
  
Luckily for her, it appeared the same thought had occurred to Flint. When she climbed up to the Shrieking Shack she found a figure clad in Death Eater regalia waiting, an extra mask in hand.  
  
"I was afraid you had forgotten," he hissed as she pulled the mask over her flushed face.  
  
"Don't be stupid," she snapped in reply. The moment she was properly attired he grabbed her arm-none too gently, mind you-and Apparated.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Picnic blankets and folding chairs spread across an open plain, a crowd of people talked, giggled, and glanced often and expectantly at the darkening sky. Baskets of food were open and investigated by people of all ages and a banner was hanging between two giant oak trees off to the left. It read "Applegate Family Reunion" in bright, bold letters. There was an air of expectation, and then, out of nowhere, the first firework brightened the sky. The children squealed with delight, their parents smiled and the elders of the family congratulated themselves on another successful reunion.   
  
The booming fireworks mingled with the cracking and pops which announced the arrival of a horde of black-clad figures. Squeals of delight suddenly became screams of terror as the Death Eaters attacked.  
  
Grace was, in a word, horrified. She looked around her in numb shock as the Death Eaters closed in on the unsuspecting Muggle family.  
  
Muggles! Innocent, harmless Muggles who had done absolutely nothing to incur the wrath of the Dark Lord. One of the figures to her left cackled as he tortured an old man and another levitated a young child from its mothers arms and sent her flying at impossible speeds into one of the oak trees. Her blood spattered the banner. He proceeded to kill the mother.  
  
She couldn't move. She couldn't breath. Death, screams, terror, murder, blood...she felt as if she were drowning in it all. The fireworks above continued to light the skies, tinting the mass below green and blue and pink. Looking around at the fallen and falling, she could hear the laughter of the Death Eaters in her ears. Her eyes fell on yet another scene.  
  
The Death Eaters had killed most of his family, but one young man was running in her direction. He seemed to be around her own age, certainly not any older. He was tall and thin with dark brown hair. A particularly brilliant blue firework filled the night sky and reflected off the boy's glasses. He was running straight at her. She had no choice.  
  
She didn't hear herself say the words. The flash of green matched the bright show above them as the boy fell under Grace's curse. As he landed in the grass, which had become muddy with blood, his glasses flew from his face and bounced to Grace's feet. She took a step back and almost fell, looking at the boy in shock. She was shaking.  
  
Around her, the fun was all but over. Grace's attention was finally won when the field was put aflame. Grace stepped away, wanting to turn and run but instead watching in fascinated horror as the flames swept through the remains of the family, scorching the grass to dust, but leaving the bodies as they lie. Grace wanted so badly for the fire to envelop the boy she had killed, but they left him as they did the others leaving even the bloodstains on his glasses intact. One of the Death Eaters raised the Dark Mark and Grace raised her horrified eyes heavenward.  
  
She felt it come from deep inside of her as she looked...a crazy, maniacal laugh which she let escape from her lips as she gazed on the Dark Mark set against a background of cheerful bursts of color, none even so much as tinting the deathly green of the Mark. It almost looked like part of the planned show. As if they Applegates had decided to invite the Death Eaters...but the idea of Voldemort and his followers sitting on a red and white checkered picnic blanket was too much even for Grace. Seeing those around her begin to leave, she followed their example and apparated. Her laughter had ceased.  
  
After the blood and colorful fireworks of the Bonfire, the clouds and weak moonlight over the Shrieking Shack were incredibly dull. Grace ripped off the mask as if it were choking her and gasped for air. Flint appeared next to her and removed his in a much more professional manner.  
  
"Feels good, doesn't it?" he asked her. "Your first kill?"  
  
She looked up at him incredulously. He smirked and walked away as calmly as if he had just returned from sneaking a butterbeer from the Three Broomsticks. Grace wasn't even angry, just shocked. Shocked that he could be so utterly, completely calm. The picture of the Dark Mark against the colorful sky kept appearing, so she shut her eyes. When she did, she saw the face of the boy she had killed, his eyes wide with the unseeing stare of the dead.  
  
"Oh," Flint said suddenly, turning around, "And don't forget Halloween." Halloween? Grace's numb mind echoed. Her...her initiation...  
  
She fell in a heap, sobbing as she had never sobbed before. Her entire body was racked with her violent cries. She curled into a ball, hugging her knees, feeling the cold earth below her and wishing more than anything that she had died with the boy.  
  
"Miss Weasley?" a voice she knew only too well interrupted. She looked up, blinking away the onslaught of tears, her cries easing every so slightly, to see Snape standing there with a concerned look and an awkward air. "What...what happened?"  
  
"I...I killed..." she started, but the words never came. She was choked by tears and the sobs returned more forcefully than ever. She expected Snape to turn and walk away, muttering about weakness, but to her surprise he knelt and awkwardly but decidedly reached for her. Without a second thought she allowed herself to be pulled into a fatherly embrace and she sobbed on his shoulder, hiccupping and crying for what seemed like hours to the only person alive who could understand why.   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
She cried herself to sleep and Snape personally carried her to the hospital wing, telling Madame Pomfrey she had inhaled some dangerous fumes from a potion of some kind and that she just needed rest, he had taken care of the rest. He then went to the Ministry for a whispered and clipped conversation with Bill, who was none too happy. Grace's innocence was all but gone.  
  
When she woke up the next morning she found a box of Honeydukes chocolate and a note from Snape telling her what he had told Madame Pomfrey-and telling her not to lose heart. She gave the nurse a watery smile and ate a chocolate. However, she was given only a few moments of peace.  
  
"Grace!" a loud, boisterous voice exclaimed as two teenagers ran into the wing. Grace started. It hadn't taken Angel and James long to discover where she was.  
  
"Hey guys," Grace managed to murmur. Her voice was sore from crying the night before.  
  
"We heard you inhaled poisonous fumes," Angel informed her concernedly. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Fumes, shmumes," James snapped. "It was Snape who poisoned here, I knew taking that class was a bad idea."  
  
"It wasn't Snape's fault," Grace defended. "Angel heard right, it was fumes. Don't worry about it. I'm...fine. I guess."  
  
"You guess?" James raised an eyebrow. He was wearing a bright red shirt his mother had sent for his birthday less than two weeks ago. It suited him well. Not that Grace noticed or anything.  
  
"Don't worry about it, I said," she snapped, annoyed at James for being so damned attractive.   
  
"Hey, as long as your better for the Halloween feast next week," Angel grinned. Grace panicked, but managed to keep a cool exterior and rolled her eyes. To do otherwise would have been an extreme deviation from the norm-Angel and Phil absolutely loved Halloween, a trait Aunt Ginny insisted was instilled in them by Uncle Draco. James and Grace constantly teased Angel about it.  
  
"I'm sure Halloween will be fine," Grace said, trying to convince herself as well as her companions.  
  
Halloween approached with all the speed of a charging lion, devouring all the time in its path. Grace had absolutely no idea how she was going to get away from the feast and to the Shrieking Shack and...beyond. She shuddered at the thought, but it was too late now. Snape offered her the opportunity to quit, but Grace couldn't see a way she could, and she had come to believe that the Ministry needed her. She wasn't going to let anyone, especially herself, down.  
  
She awoke even earlier than usual that day, and the dull gray of the sky before sunrise matched her mood quite accurately. She dressed for her morning run and slowly followed the familiar path to the giant oak doors. Luckily she only had one class, Charms, that day because sixth year Gryffindors had the second class on Wednesdays free for study and they had no afternoon classes because of Halloween anyway. Grace didn't think she could concentrate through more than one class.  
  
The boys were there as usual, and Grace acted her part as well as she did every other day, smiling and flirting and talking but her heart wasn't in it. When she ran she blocked the boys from her mind and allowed her head to clear itself. By the time she had collected her thermos from Frank Winters, and ran upstairs for a much needed shower.  
  
She listened to absolutely nothing Professor Flitwick said. Her mind was already in that evening, and as much as she tried to block the thought from her mind the memory of the Cruciatus Curse was enough to make her want to cry. Then she would remember the Bonfire...the fallen boy... How was she going to do this?  
  
"Gold? Gold...HELLO! Grace!" Angel yelled. Grace shook herself out of her morbid thoughts.  
  
"What?" she snapped.  
  
"The bell rang," James explained, rolling his eyes. "Where are you today? Mars?"  
  
"Pluto," Grace replied, grabbing her bag and following her friends out of the classroom and up to the portrait, when the reached the Fat Lady, Angel stopped.  
  
"Um, Tom has study period now too, so..." she let her sentence trail and her cheeks turned pink slightly. James and Grace exchanged looks.  
  
"See you later," Grace muttered. Angel smiled and took off in the other direction. James rolled his eyes, gave the Fat Lady the password, and climbed into the common room.  
  
"We need to get that Potions essay done," James said with a sigh as fell into an armchair.  
  
"Should we go down to the library?" Grace asked.  
  
"Why bother?" he replied. "Everyone else is in the library, we can have the whole common room to ourselves."  
  
"Go get your Potions book then," she snapped. He shrugged but obeyed, and Grace looked around the common room with the realization that he was right; they were completely alone. She shivered. Being alone with James had that effect on her.  
  
"I'm back!" he exclaimed, causing her to jump. She nodded and started pulling parchment out of her bag. Her hands were shaking. The combination of James and the thought of what was going to happen that night was making her so nervous she could hardly see straight. James frowned as he saw her unsteady hands.  
  
"Are you okay?" he asked.  
  
"I'm fine," she insisted, reaching for a bottle of ink.  
  
"Are you sure?" he pressed. His voice caused her to jump and she dropped the ink, spilling it all over the floor. She swore, and James hurriedly rushed to her side and cleaned the mess with a wave of his wand.   
  
"Stop it," she said. He looked at her in confusion.  
  
"Stop what?"   
  
"Stop asking if I'm okay!" she yelled. "I'm fine, can't you see that I'm perfectly fine?"  
  
"I'm so sorry for being worried about you," he said sarcastically, feeling his own temper rise.   
  
"I don't need you to worry about me!" she snapped.  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"It's not like you even care!"  
  
"How can you say that?" he demanded, his eyes wide with disbelief. Did she really think that he didn't care about her?  
  
"It's true," Grace said, her mouth set stubbornly.  
  
"You know I care about you," James said, feeling confused and uneasy. She regarded him unblinkingly.  
  
"Prove it."  
  
He stared at her, taking in her flashing gold eyes and crossed arms, the set of her chin and the tilt in her hips. He couldn't take it any longer.  
  
So he kissed her.  
  
She was caught completely off guard. James was completely embarrassed and was about to pull away when he felt her arms come around his neck and pull him closer. She was kissing him back.  
  
Grace didn't even know what she was doing. Her mind was a complete blank. She had been waiting for James Potter to kiss her since she was ten years old and here he was! It was just as wonderful as she had imagined, but somehow she couldn't comprehend... Why was he kissing her?  
  
Because he doesn't know, a jeering voice in the back of her mind said, if he saw how you killed that boy he would never have kissed you. Grace tried to block out the voice but instead she could see the boy's dead face against her closed lids...  
  
She broke the kiss and sprinted through the common room, her face in her hands, trying to block out the picture of the boy. But he wouldn't go away. He was still there...always there...She ran up to her dorm and slammed the door, fell onto her bed and dissolved into tears. Why, why, WHY had James suddenly decided to kiss her? She didn't need this, not with everything else.  
  
Not with Lord Voldemort awaiting her arrival. No, she certainly didn't need James Potter's fickle feelings when she had that on her mind.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
James stood there all alone in the middle of the common room for quite some time, staring at the empty space Grace had just occupied. He couldn't believe he had kissed her. He couldn't believe she had kissed him back. He couldn't believe she had run away. It all seemed like a dream somehow.  
  
He finally sat down and started working on his Potions essay, his movements mechanical. His mind was so full of questions he was afraid it would burst, but he was so confused that he couldn't think at all. Nothing was making any sense.  
  
He heard a bell sound in the distance and the other Gryffindors came rushing into the room. They were laughing and joking. James looked around for Angel, but she was nowhere to be seen. He cursed Tom Flint under his breath-he needed to talk to Angel more than he had ever needed to talk to anyone in the past.  
  
The essay took most of the afternoon. He then pulled out Transfiguration and continued with his homework, blotting it so badly he wound up throwing it away and starting over. His eyes weren't even on the paper; they were on the portrait, waiting for Angel's return.   
  
When the time for the feast came Angel still wasn't back and Grace was still locked in her dorm. Seething with frustration and anger at himself, James packed his bag, dropped it in his dorm, and went down to the feast with everyone else...everyone except his two best friends.  
  
To his relief Angel was already seated at the Gryffindor table. She gestured wildly for him to come and sit with her, which, of course, he did. He hadn't even reached for the mashed potatoes when she asked the obvious and dreaded question.  
  
"Where's Grace?"   
  
"I don't know," James replied, piling food on his plate.  
  
"What's wrong?" she asked, her cheery smile gone at the look on her friend's face. "James, what happened?" He looked around to make sure everyone else was occupied with dinner then turned to Angel.  
  
"I kissed her," he whispered. Her eyes widened.  
  
"So what...are you guys together now?" she hissed, her eyes flashing with excitement.  
  
"You didn't let me finish," James said darkly.  
  
"Sorry," she said, not sounding sorry at all, "So you kissed her. And...?"  
  
"And she ran away."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Crying."  
  
WHAT?!" Angel's voice had reached an alarming pitch. People around them were starting to stare. James gave them a glare that warned them to return to their own conversations and then returned to Angel.  
  
"Keep it down, will you," he snapped.   
  
"I...I just don't get it," she said, sounding dazed. "I thought Grace had a thing for you..."  
  
"Well obviously you were wrong," he replied, annoyed with himself for even telling Angel in the first place.  
  
"I can go talk to her if you want me to," she volunteered.  
  
"No, no, I regret ever doing it in the first place. I just hope we can all forget it even happened and we can still be friends," James said.  
  
"Things change James," Angel said softly. "Even friends."  
  
"Not Grace," James argued stubbornly. "Grace will never change."  
  
Meanwhile Grace was already almost to the Shrieking Shack. She pushed herself through the trapdoor and hurried out into the night, not wanting Flint to know about her secret passage. The passage was known only to her, Angel, and James.  
  
James. She closed her eyes at the thought of him. What was a girl to do? She was going to become a Death Eater, she couldn't have the oldest son of Harry Potter kissing her left and right. It just didn't fit the persona.  
  
Not that she would mind kissing the oldest son of Harry Potter left and right or anything.  
  
She felt her cheeks flush and forced herself to get a grip. She certainly couldn't have Flint wondering what was going on, let alone the Dark Lord himself. She pushed James out of her mind quickly with the thought of the dead boy. Biting her lip, she started to block her mind, mentally cloaking herself in black and summoning all her energy for a powerful boost of Occlumency.  
  
It was then that Flint decided to appear. She had expected him to jaunt and sneer, but he looked quite serious. That was probably not a good thing.  
  
Without speaking they Apparated to Platform 9 3/4. Grace found no humor in the brick portkey now. She and Flint were transported to the freezing clearing where the tall cloaked figure awaited them. She stepped forward and felt the evil around her as he lifted his wand. She closed her eyes, knowing what came next.  
  
"Crucio,"  
  
She submitted to the curse, falling to her knees and crying out in agony, but not begging for mercy as she had once done. She knew that Lord Voldemort did not approve of mercy in any way, shape, or form.  
  
An eternity passed, and the curse was lifted. She struggled to her feet and she saw the figure pull out the sharp, glowing dagger that would soon penetrate her skin. Although she knew it wasn't the Dagger of Certain Death, she couldn't help but remember the story of her mother's courage in taking that dagger in Harry's place. She would be strong, just like her mother.  
  
After Cruciatus, the pain of the dagger piercing her skin and carving the mark was an afterthought. However when her knew master's glowing green hand stared sucking the life from the fresh blood, it was like the curse all over again. She fell to her knees with a scream of agony, and when her master released her she fell to the ground.  
  
The pain was too much for her to get up. She lay there in the frosty grass for what seemed like hours before she managed to sit up. Voldemort and Flint were both gone. Grace took a shuddering breath and looked down at her arm. She felt her heart stop.  
  
There it was, the Dark Mark, grinning at in all its malicious glory. One her very flesh...but more than that, burned into her soul. She was no longer her own person, she belonged to the Dark Lord. And not only did she belong to him, she was betraying him.  
  
Grace gathered all the strength left in her and Apparated to the Shrieking Shack. When she arrived, she found Snape, Bill, and Ginny waiting for her, concern written across their features. It was dangerous, she knew, for them to all be there, but she didn't care. She had suddenly realized she wasn't alone, and it was the most wonderful feeling she could imagine.  
  
"Aunt Ginny," she managed to mutter. Her aunt pulled her into a tight embrace and whispered a few spells to ease the pain. "Thank you," she murmured.  
  
"Good job, kid," Bill said. She smiled at him.  
  
"Severus, I'm not sure that she can walk," Ginny said, her face contorted with concern. In response Snape lifted her as easily as if she were a child.  
  
"I'll take her to the Hospital Wing. Dumbledore's waiting there, he gave Poppy the night off."  
  
"All right," Ginny replied, biting her lip. She kissed her niece's forehead as if she were ten years younger. "Goodnight, Grace. And good luck."  
  
Grace was too tired to reply. She allowed Snape to carry her back to the castle and felt the soft bed beneath her as she was gently set down. Through the veils of sleep she heard Snape and Dumbledore converse in soft voices just outside of the curtains surrounding her bed. After that Dumbledore left and Snape turned to look at the sleeping girl who had just sold her soul to the devil. She returned the gaze, her golden eyes empty and exhausted.  
  
"Thank you, Professor Snape," she finally managed to say.  
  
"We are equal now," he replied. "Call me Severus."  
  
"Goodnight...Severus," she said, falling into sleep.  
  
"Goodnight child," he replied in a soft voice which she barely heard.  
  
Severus Snape stared down at Grace Weasley with disbelief at all that she had done. Her bravery was something to be envied; he had to admit. But it was more than just that. She was giving up her entire life to save an entire generation of ungrateful and selfish peers. He smiled at her and blew out the only candle left in the room before quietly leaving her to sleep.  
  
She had certainly earned his respect. And one day, she would have the respect of the rest of the world too. Even her parents. 


	7. Life with the Mark

Chapter Six  
  
Life with the mark  
  
Is it enough to love?  
  
Is it enough to breathe?  
  
Somebody rip my heart out  
  
And leave me here to bleed  
  
Is it enough to die?  
  
Somebody save my life!  
  
I'd rather be anything but ordinary, please  
  
**Avril Lavigne's Anything but Ordinary  
  
The Hospital Wing was still as the grave. The thin white curtains revealed the misty fog of oncoming dawn. Not even a whispering breeze disturbed the eerie silence.  
  
Suddenly and without warning, movement broke the spell of unmoving peace. The figure was panting and, reaching an upright position, let out a heartfelt groan. Dull eyes hidden behind unruly red tangles spoke of the pain that reached into the very depths of the soul.  
  
Grace was in every possible explanation and thought of pain. Her bones, her muscles, her heart and her spirit throbbed with excruciating pain. She flexed her fingers with a wince then raised her left arm.  
  
Her eyes were drawn with morbid curiosity to the Mark. There it was, grinning at her. There it was, forever burned into her flesh, her spirit, her being. The devil's brand, marking her as one of his.  
  
The pain had dulled to an ache. Her mind awakened, and she quickly hid her arm, her cheeks burning as if someone had spotted it already. With some urging, she got her legs functioning and swung them off the bed. After a few tries they supported her weight, and she felt all the better for it. However, her head was so full she thought it would burst, and she decided she had never in her life desired a morning run as she did now.  
  
Once her muscles stopped protesting and started moving, she felt relief flooding her frame. She jogged to her dorm, tiptoeing to her trunk so as not to waken the others who were sleeping soundly.  
  
After digging around in her trunk Grace produced a small bottle of foundation. She located her wand and muttered the strengthening charm. She started to apply it, but after a suspicious look at her classmates she locked herself in the bathroom before revealing the Mark in all its dark glory once again.  
  
Her arm sufficiently covered, Grace changed into running clothes and grabbed her bag, taking the familiar route downstairs and trying to convince herself it was just another morning.  
  
Only the earliest of the boys were there, seeing as the sun had just risen. She only stopped for a moment. She didn't want to stop at all, but to do otherwise would have been dangerous. Besides, a growing Death Eater needs her breakfast.  
  
After a trifle of flirting, an orange and a glass of water, Grace smiled at the boys (who, by this time, were all assembled) and began her run. The moment she felt the familiar morning breeze on her cheeks and the warm pull of her muscles she calmed down and was ready to face the day.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
James Potter was without an appetite that morning. As a matter of fact, he felt rather as if last night's feast were going to return. He hadn't seen Grace since the kiss yesterday afternoon.  
  
The kiss. What had he been thinking? How could he have possibly put their friendship in jeopardy like that? And where the hell did she learn to kiss like THAT?  
  
He gritted his teeth. It was going to be a long day.  
  
Aforementioned loss of appetite caused James to reach the conclusion that attending breakfast would be counterproductive. He therefore made straight for the library, as the seemingly forgotten tradition dictated. He took out his Transfiguration book, but stared at it miserably instead of actually reading the words imprinted there.  
  
Everything in James's life had been flipped upside down ever since Angel had taken into her head to have a fling with Flint. She was never around anymore and now James, being the idiot that he was, went and kissed Grace, who had been acting strangely anyway. Great, just peachy keen. He let out a miniature growl in frustration.  
  
"James?" a soft voice interrupted his reverie. He looked up to see Angel looking down at him curiously.   
  
"What?" he snapped, rather more loudly than intended. A look of concern flickered across her visage, and James cursed himself for a fool.  
  
"What's wrong?" she asked softly, sitting next to him and taking one of his hands in hers.   
  
"Nothing's wrong, I just..." James let the sentence trail, hoping Angel wouldn't ask for any more than that. She said nothing, but her imploring liquid silver eyes held affectionate and concerned curiosity. "I just can't believe I kissed her! And I can't believe she won't talk to me! And I can't believe-"  
  
"Shh," she whispered. "It's okay, I understand." James looked around, his cheeks flushed as he noticed a pair of second years looking at him curiously.   
  
"I'm acting like such an idiot," he muttered.   
  
"Let's go for a walk," Angel suggested sympathetically. He nodded miserably in response. They slowly descended the steps. Angel uneasily suggested stopping to get some toast, an idea James promptly vetoed. He was still feeling a bit queasy.  
  
Angel's sympathetic presence just made James feel all the worse. He knew she had taken time away from her beloved Flint, and the sickness the felt from the idea with Angel and the Flint, along with the hidden pleasure that he was doing his part to keep them apart made him feel all the guiltier. Especially seeing as at the moment it was more about not wanting to think about any happy couple than any danger to Angel's heart that made James happy they were not together at the moment. They walked in silence as James pondered over his emotions, staring at the floor. It was Angel who opened the heavy oak doors, and therefore it was Angel who gasped first. This caused James to look up and he felt his eyes widen with surprise.  
  
It seemed that half of the male population of Hogwarts was sitting there on the steps. After a moment James realized that there were thirty-five at most, but this left him none-the-less shocked. What in the world could possibly draw so many teenaged boys to one spot?  
  
"Hey, Brentson," James said, recognizing the third year Gryffindor seated near the door. The boy turned around, and James watched his face pale in horror.  
  
"P...Po...Potter," he stuttered. One of his friends turned around and a similar look of terror came into his face.  
  
"You guys!" The second boy shrieked, his voice cracking, "It's James Potter!"  
  
About half of the guys turned around. Their eyes showed several reactions, from fright to surprise to indifference, these emotions going from youngest to oldest as a trend.  
  
"About time you got here Potter," Henry Holiday, a Slytherin in seventh year, called back to him.   
  
"What are you talking about?" James snapped, highly annoyed.  
  
"Well, you see..." Brentson started, trying not to stutter. However, he was almost immediately drowned out by a tall, well-built sixth or seventh year in the front of the pack that James didn't even recognize.  
  
"There she is!" he was shouting at the top of his lungs, pointing to the right. James felt his brow furrow. Who was 'she' exactly? He turned his confused eyes to where the kid was pointing, and suddenly felt as if he had be punched in the solar plexus.   
  
'She' was Grace, his very own Grace Weasley. Her locks of fire, which he secretly treasured, were pulled back into a ponytail that swung with her steps. She was jogging at a pretty good pace, her shirt pulled up to show a few inches of pale skin, and James couldn't help but notice where most of the boys were looking. He felt a surge of nausea within him.  
  
"Hey Grace!" the boy he didn't recognize called with a wave. Grace smiled and blew him a kiss. The nausea fled in fear of the raging anger coursing through James's frame.  
  
"Grace, what the hell are you doing?!" he roared before he could help himself. Grace looked up in surprise, noticing him for the first time. She stopped in mere shock.  
  
Grace silently cursed her best friends. She had finally cleared her mind and was just about ready to go onto her normal day. What the hell did they want? Why did they always have to complicate these harmless little things?  
  
Fuming, she took a slow pace up to the steps. She stood on the very bottom, not wanting to inconvenience her boys, looking up at James with an eyebrow raised in defiance of his gritted teeth. "Do you have a problem, James?"  
  
"Yes I do!" he shouted. Angel flinched at his voice, but Grace held her ground. "What are you doing out here, and what's with the...the bloody show?"  
  
"Show?" she snorted. "Please, it's not a big deal."  
  
"It's not a big-" he began.  
  
"Potter, we've been out here for over a month," Henry Holiday drawled.  
  
"A MONTH!" James shrieked, his eyes widening even more.  
  
"I've been running every morning," Grace explained. "Not that you've noticed," she added venomously.   
  
"Why didn't you tell me?" James asked, trying to be angry in front of his peers but coming off as as miserable as he really was.  
  
"You don't own me, James," she replied. "It's not like you're my boyfriend or anything."   
  
Grace regretted the words as soon as they had left her mouth. The hurt and reproach in his eyes were like a bomb going off in her heart as she suddenly remembered the kiss. THE kiss! How could she have possibly forgotten...?  
  
As if to answer this question, her Mark prickled. She glanced down at her arm, but nothing could be seen. Her heart was pounding at a million miles a minute. She couldn't think. She needed to focus her energy.  
  
"Damn it, Henry," she snapped suddenly, breaking the spell of silence. "Give me my bloody thermos."  
  
"You must be a Dark Witch, to guess every damn time," he grinned. James watched in shock and unreasonable jealousy as Holiday tossed an unfamiliar brick red thermos to Grace, who caught it and took a long draught, then reached for her bag, snuggled comfortably between Cory Creevey and Terry Chesney. She pulled out a white towel and draped it around her shoulders. James watched the entire scene, trying to find words but not coming up with anything.   
  
"Sorry, but its time for my shower," Grace said. The boys groaned as a whole.  
  
"But Grace," Chesney whined, "You've two cool down laps to go, at least!"  
  
"At least!" Creevey echoed.   
  
"Too bad," Grace replied. "Catch you later," she said, passing through the throng and passing by James and Angel without a second glance. The boys split up and followed her example, talking among themselves. Before James had collected his wits, he and Angel were all alone on the steps. James didn't know what to do, and turned to Angel angrily.  
  
"Why didn't you say anything?" he demanded snappishly.  
  
"It just didn't seem right to...intrude," Angel explained unhappily. "I'm sorry, James."  
  
"No," he looked to the sky in frustration, "No, its not your fault."  
  
"We're going to be late for Transfiguration," she squeaked. With a sigh he followed her inside and headed to class, his mind a whirlwind and his heart numb.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Professor...I just can't buy it. Voldemort is dead, we both know that, and it's impossible that he's risen again."  
  
"That's what we said twenty years ago," Dumbledore reminded the Minister. "You and I both know that Voldemort's actions are unpredictable, Harry. We should have dealt with the possibility of a return several years ago."  
  
The Minister of Magic-that is Harry Potter-was meeting with the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to discuss the startling discovery of the Dark Mark at Lemon Lane. Harry had, of course, brought his closest advisors...his closest friends, in other words. Ron and Rayven Weasley and Draco Malfoy made up Harry's official Council of Advisors, but Hermione and Ginny were also present, along with Snape and McGonagall with Dumbledore. Dumbledore's suggestion of the latest development being the return of Voldemort had stunned them all into a momentary silence.  
  
"Balderdash," Hermione snorted, "I saw the fiend die with my own eyes."  
  
"Exactly," Harry nodded at his wife. "It's impossible. Don't you agree, Ron?"  
  
Ron directed a concentrated stare at the handsome mahogany table, a frown fixed firmly in place. The idea of Voldemort returning terrified him...but Harry had not seen the great lengths the Dark Lord took to insure immortality. Several of Ron's murders had involved this obsession, and he was sure he didn't know all the desperate steps Voldemort had taken. The return of Lord Voldemort was a definite possibility...possibly probable.  
  
"Ron?" Harry repeated.  
  
"I..." Ron struggled to admit his conclusions aloud. It would make them too real. He swallowed hardly before continuing. "You've never seen him in action, Harry, not his plots. I...I agree with Dumbledore. We should have prepared for this. Voldemort certainly did."  
  
"Really, Mr. Weasley!" McGonagall looked scandalized. "Albus! The Minister is right, it is impossible-"  
  
"No, professor, excuse my interruption, but I'm afraid its not impossible," Draco said quietly, but his calm demeanor did not hide his fear from Ron. "As a matter of fact," he continued, "It's a very real possibility. I can't logic it out right now, seeing as I don't know how he could have worked a way around the Dagger of Certain Death, but he was quite paranoid about death. I wouldn't be surprised to learn he worked around the mortal system."  
  
"This is ridiculous-" Hermione began.  
  
"Draco, I see your point, but do you really think-" Ginny was saying.  
  
"I tell you, Ron and Draco are right!" Rayven said in a shrill voice. "You people just don't understand-"  
  
"I?!" Harry shouted in fury, "I don't understand the Dark Lord's wrath?!"  
  
"Harry, calm down, you shouldn't-"  
  
"I just don't see-"  
  
"Look at it from a-"  
  
"SILENCE!" Dumbledore shouted, and his command was immediately obeyed. "Now," he continued in a demure tone, "Let us all sit and think rationally. Are there any possibilities we've overlooked?"  
  
"Perhaps some of the remaining Death Eaters are stirring up trouble," Hermione suggested, "We haven't caught them all."  
  
"True," Draco countered, "But we have the leaders. Ron and Rayven can confirm that for me." It was a quiet and calculated reminder of the three's efforts to prevent the very thing happening around them.  
  
"Draco...I hear what you're saying, but Hermione has a point," Harry said uncomfortably, trying to avoid the stares directed at him. "No one has offered a more logical possibility-"  
  
"Then allow me," Severus interrupted quietly. Harry jumped, turning to face his old Potions master, whose presence he had completely forgotten. "We are working on the premise that Lord Voldemort is dead. However, we have no proof of that assumption."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," Harry snapped, "I saw him die! Ron and Rayven-"  
  
"Ah," Severus whispered, his eyes gleaming. "Rayven. She is the key isn't she? Rayven was pierced by the dagger as well. Yet she lived."  
  
"We've been through this, Severus," McGonagall replied, sounding confused. "She was pregnant, remember?"  
  
"Were we not just discussing Voldemort's attempts at immortality? For Merlin's sake, listen to us. The answer is so obvious. The Dark Lord has a child."  
  
This pronouncement was met with utter silence. The words hit Ron like a tidal wave, engulfing him. How could they not have seen this?  
  
"But...but..." Ginny stuttered, "But why did he appear to die? Rayven was only unconscious for a few hours. I can't believe that he would wait sixteen years to make his move."  
  
"Rayven's unborn daughter depended on her for life and willed her to live," Severus replied. "Remember that the spell of the dagger is based upon love. However if the child had rejected him...the traces of the bond would still be present, and his immortality charms would keep his soul, if not his body, intact."  
  
"Are you suggesting that he is possessing his heir?" Draco asked incredulously.   
  
"If Lucius were killed with the dagger your bond would be enough to keep only his spirit on this earth, and he would be able to possess only you. It's a complicated procedure, possession of another body, but we know Voldemort would stop at nothing, and there are enough free Death Eaters to assist him. It is possible."  
  
"In that case," Dumbledore said in a voice that made him sound even older than he was. "In that case, we are dealing with the return of the Dark Lord and another rise for power." He closed his eyes, looking weary, "God help us."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
It was quiet. Too quiet. It had been a week since Grace had taken the Mark and she still hadn't seen hide nor hair of the Dark Lord or any of his associates. Not that Grace was hopping up and down in hopes of murder or anything, but the anxiety was annoying.  
  
Grace suddenly had the vision of herself sitting in charms class and Flitwick asking the class who wanted to be the murderer of the week as she thrust her hand in the air and practically jumped up screaming "Me! Me! Oh, please, pick me Professor!"  
  
Or not.  
  
She was actually in Binns's class, and life could not have been more boring. Even with the apprehensive aftermath of the kiss, James discovering the boys, and all that, the strange quiet and mysterious lack of event refused to be quenched. James decided to pretend as if he had never seen her boys, and it didn't mean anything to him anyway.  
  
Grace was mightily confused about this. He had kissed her, then blown up when she had flirted with other guys, and now he wanted to pretend like everything was exactly the way it always had been. True, she hadn't exactly responded in a positive manner...but what was she supposed to do? That particular day had been...inconvenient to say the least. James had always had horrible timing. She supposed it was all for the best in the long run, because she couldn't play the espionage game as if she had something to lose, as she had learned that night.  
  
The bell finally interrupted the monotonous drone Binns was famous for as well as Grace's increasingly morbid thoughts. She picked up her books and followed her friends to the common room without comment, still caught up in her own mind.  
  
Angel cast her a strange look, and Grace struggled to smile back. Her poor friends, they were concerned, she knew, but there was nothing she could do but pretend she didn't need their comfort, no matter how bad she wanted it. They wasted their free hour before dinner meant for study to play gobstones. It was on the way down to the Great Hall, passing the Transfiguration corridor, that she felt it.  
  
The pain was so intense, so concentrated in a single spot, that she cried aloud. It wasn't very loud, but it was certainly loud enough to attract attention from James and Angel. "What's wrong?" one or the other cried, but Grace's eyes were closed and her brain so frazzled that she couldn't tell one from the other.   
  
"Nothing," she managed, prying her eyes open and forcing a smile, her arm still burning. "I banged my toe is all," she prayed her famous klutziness would quench their curiosity. "Actually, guys, I think I'm feeling a bit sick. I'm going to ask Madame Pomfrey if she has anything I can take."  
  
"Do you want us to bring something back for you?" Angel inquired.  
  
"Uh, sure!" Grace said, practically stuttering, "I'll, er, see you then," she had just enough sense to run in the direction of the hospital wing and not the doors, but at the first opportunity she ran down a secret passage and out into the crisp November air.   
  
The pain in her arm was blazing now, like a white-fire had started in her veins. She sprinted to the edge of the forest, and Apparated the moment she was off school grounds.  
  
The pain disappeared immediately, and Grace had rarely felt such relief. She was in a wide clearing, the sunset blazing to her left. With a start, she realized Damian Flint was staring at her.  
  
"What are YOU doing here?" he sneered. His presence shocked her into reality, and she immediately set up Occlumency walls in her mind before answering.   
  
"I was summoned, obviously," was the reply, which almost met his for contempt. They might have gone on bickering all day if Voldemort had not arrived on the scene.  
  
Once again, he was completely covered in black, not even a glint of eyes to betray the presence of a living thing inside the cloak. His servants were immediately silent and still.   
  
"You are wondering why I have summoned you both?" the Dark Lord whispered. "I need to...run an experiment." He paused, but no one said anything. Questioning Voldemort was a big no-no. "I want Miss Weasley to kill the oaf Rubeus Hagrid, and I want Mr. Flint to see how many anti-black magic spells, alarms and so forth are activated. I trust that you will not get yourselves caught."  
  
"Of course not, Master," Damian replied. Grace couldn't say anything, her full will at that point was bent on blocking her mind. She knew she was being tested, but what Voldemort failed to realize was that he had simply shocked her mind into a blank state. Kill Hagrid? She couldn't do that! He was a friend of the family, a friend of Harry and Hermione's and he was one of the sweetest...she gritted her teeth and refused to think about Hagrid in Voldemort's presence. He would know, and she could not allow that to happen.   
  
"Go," he commanded, and they bowed and Apparated to the Shrieking Shack. They didn't bother to remove the masks. Grace had always found them stifling, but now she found that cowardly sense of security in the knowledge that her face was hidden in its evil.  
  
"We'll wait another hour," Damian said, "The castle will be quiet by then." Grace nodded, unable to speak.  
  
Looking back years later, Grace knew that the wait was the worst of the entire ordeal. She kept imagining herself killing Hagrid, except in these morbid visions he always saw her face and cried "why?!" She imagined getting caught, the look on her father's face, the look on Severus's face...  
  
Hagrid had no right to die. And if he didn't deserve to live, she certainly didn't. Suicidal tendencies made themselves heard for the first time in Grace Weasley's life. The coward's way out, she had always considered it. Now it was starting to make perfect sense. She even started planning the small note she would slip into Angel's backpack, the potion she would brew, preferably the most painful she could find. She wanted to feel pain.  
  
She knew she wouldn't though. She was grasping for straws in her mind, reasons to live. Her family and friends seem so far away now they hardly counted as reasons for existence. Besides, if they knew why she was contemplating the end of her life they certainly would just wish for her to go through with the plan. It was thoughts of Severus and Aunt Ginny that kept her will for life intact. It was her mission, her efforts to stop Voldemort. He may have taken me, she thought, and he may be taking Hagrid, but he will not win. Not while I am living.  
  
"It's time," Damian's abrupt statement made her literally jump out of her thoughts. She nodded, got to her feet (she didn't remember sitting down) and swallowed hard. This was it. Her first official assassination as a Death Eater.  
  
It was almost too easy. Even though they were completely in Death Eater dress the castle's alarms were not activated because they were students, and Hogwarts of course recognized this. Through the windows of Hagrid's hut they could see light dancing merrily from the fire. She felt her heart speed and her throat constrict, and she closed her eyes for a moment to regain her composure. This was it.  
  
They opened the door silently. Hagrid's back was to the fire. It was perfect. All she had to do was say the words and run like fury and it would be over. No fuss. Nothing. She raised her wand. She hesitated.  
  
Damian looked at her questioningly. Hagrid continued fumbling over the fire, but that couldn't go on indefinitely. And still, she hesitated. She tried to make the words come out, but nothing was happening. They were stuck in her throat, chained by the shredded remains of her rigid morals.  
  
"Weasley," he hissed, so quietly Grace could barely hear him, but obviously years of working in the forest had given Hagrid excellent hearing. He turned around and his eyes widened.  
  
"What do ye think ye're-"  
  
"Avada Kedavra!" Grace cried without thinking, and felt her limbs stiffen with horror as she saw her curse collide with the great man and topple him, his eyes staring wide at her. Her moment of paralyzed fear was brief, because the alarms screaming around her reminded her of the vitality of moving.   
  
She was running faster than she could ever remember moving before, and she could hear Damian muttering next to her as they fled. She didn't try to interpret his words, she didn't turn around, and she didn't think about what she had just done. She simply ran like fury.   
  
The moment she crossed the boundaries of the grounds she Apparated without thinking, basic instinct and adrenaline taking her magical abilities to new heights. Her mind took her to a small park near the ministry building, a place her parents had often Apparated to according to Severus. She was still sprinting when she arrived with a pop. She came to an abrupt stop, nearly collapsing, panting for breath.  
  
It wasn't until her blood stopped singing in her ears and her heart stopped pounding nearly out of her chest that the realization of what she had done hit Grace. She stood perfectly still, unable to move and in a state of such self-disgust she felt like vomiting right then and there. It took her a few moments to gather enough wits and courage to enter the Ministry building. Bill's office had never seemed so far away.  
  
He was bent over his desk when she found him, reading a book of some kind. On other days she might have teasingly mentioned trashy romance novels, but not tonight. He looked up when he heard her entire, his face changing from curious to apprehensive sympathy in seconds.  
  
"Sit, Grace, sit," he said gently, approaching her and guiding her steps to the empty chair. She followed him without response, as if she were a sleep-walking child. Oh how she wished it was all a horrific child's nightmare!  
  
"What happened?" he asked, taking out a notepad, ink and quill. She opened her mouth to tell him, but froze when she saw his poised pen. She couldn't handle the thought of her crime, her sin, her murder going on record. She stared blankly, at a loss for words. "Grace?" he tried again, in his gentle, comforting voice.  
  
"I...I..." she stuttered. "I was summoned."  
  
"Yes," he nodded, writing carefully. He nodded encouragingly for her to continue.  
  
"And I...I was summoned with Damian Flint," she continued.  
  
"The boy who trained you," Bill nodded. "Yes, we'll catch him the moment we have evidence for the court, which we'll gather on your information of course," he smiled. "And then?"  
  
"And then..." her voice cracked. She swallowed and began again, "We were sent to...to test the alarms by...by..."  
  
"By what, Grace?" he asked, still gentle, still comforting. Her eyes narrowed. She was not a child. She did not need comfort. She needed to be yelled at, to be damned, to be told she was the worst person living. She needed to feel pain, to feel rejection, to feel anything but this empty whirlwind of nothing in her heart.  
  
"I killed Hagrid!" she shouted at the top of her lungs. "Okay? I killed him! Right there, in cold blood, in his own hut! Did you hear me? I KILLED RUBEUS HAGRID!" She was screaming, her face turning red from the effort. She didn't realize until it was too late that tears were pouring down her face. She screamed the last words, the damning confession of murder, before collapsing in a heap of unbearable sobs and a misery so profound she couldn't even feel it.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
She was the first one awake by habit. The castle was silent. Grace was freezing cold, despite the blankets. It was a cold that was internal, and could never be warmed.   
  
She crawled out of bed, not so much as blinking when her feet touched the cold stone floor. She softly walked over to the window and sat watching the bleak, gray light of approaching dawn. They sky was black, the stars hidden by thick dark clouds. That was how Grace felt right then, surrounded by darkness and only a bleak, unpromising future ahead. She saw no sunrise coming for her.   
  
She knew the boys would be down there waiting for her as if it were any other day. Grace felt her stomach give an unpleasant turn. It was not just the other day. It was the first day Grace would have to live with murder on her conscious. A day she never dreamed would come to her. Her mind kept replaying the scene over and over...the look on Hagrid's face...the shadows dancing through the cabin...the sound of her own voice. Cold and hard, calling out the words that would bring the man to his final resting place...  
  
Grace stood and ran into the bathroom, vomiting violently. She flushed the toilet and sank down onto the cold stone floor, shaking. After a few moments spent working solely on breathing, she forced herself to her feet and stumbled into the shower.  
  
The water was boiling hot, turning her skin red in minutes. However, no matter how hot the water was it did nothing for the cold, dead hole in her soul, or cold, dead Hagrid. Nothing, nothing, nothing. With a cry of frustration she grabbed the nearest bottle of shampoo and flung it at the mirror, hearing it thud but not break. She glared angrily. She wanted something to break, to shatter, to end. Just like Hagrid.  
  
She was out of the shower and dressed, and the sun was rising, but the brilliance was hidden by the thick storm clouds surrounding the castle. Grace sat on her bed and stared moodily at the floor until she heard Diana stirring. With that, she stood and fled down to the common room.   
  
Eventually she was forced to meet with society again, but at least she had had a few hours to compose herself. By the time James and Angel emerged she was able to give them a smile and a cheerful good morning. She walked down to breakfast with a light step, even though her entire body was filled with heavy dread of the announcement she knew breakfast would bring.   
  
It was worse than she had expected. The teachers were huddled in a corner when they entered the Great Hall. Grace did not hear a word Dumbledore said as he stood and addressed the students, his face grave and his voice deep with melancholy. The shocked looks of her classmates were distorted, as if she were seeing them through a pane of foggy glass. Classes were canceled, and Grace made her way to the common room silently, as did everyone else. Just act like everyone else, she told herself, and everything will be okay.   
  
The common room had never been so crowded or so silent. There was not even the cheerful crackling of a fire to break the raging quiet. Grace was struck with a powerful feeling of claustrophobia. She stood abruptly and left. No one followed her.   
  
She found a deserted corner of the Library and tried to cry. She wanted nothing more than to let all her emotions be washed away in a flood of tears. However, it was as if she had already cried all she ever could, and her tear ducts had dried completely, leaving her emotionless. She tried to read, but the letters on the page made no sense, the words jumbling in her mind to form a stream of meaningless babble. Eventually she found she was just staring into space, unable to move or think or breathe.   
  
"Miss Weasley?"  
  
"Professor," she replied blankly, trying to smile.  
  
"Severus, remember?" he replied, sitting next to her. She nodded. They sat in silence for a few more moments. Grace didn't know what to make of his presence. She didn't know what to make of anything.  
  
"Grace, you cannot blame this on yourself," he said quietly after a time.   
  
"You know perfectly well that I can," she snapped. He sighed.  
  
"Yes, I suppose I do," he replied. "But you cannot stop living, or fighting. You must go on," She looked at him. His face was impassive as ever, his eyes dark and enigmatic. His aura was cold and unforgiving. She found more comfort in him than anyone else.  
  
"Yes, Severus," she whispered. He nodded, and then left without another word. Grace turned her face to the window and felt a tear creep down her cheek.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Snape was late to the meeting. No one noticed. Harry's face was ashen, Hermione's eyes were blank. Ron looked furious and Draco was silent. Rayven was sympathetic and unsure. Grave sadness cloaked Dumbledore, while a passionate, angry bitterness cloaked McGonagall. Ginny and Severus, however, looked merely subdued, as if it had been expected. Sad, but expected.  
  
"It was a Death Eater, then?" Hermione asked, finally breaking the silence. McGonagall nodded in response.   
  
"That still doesn't necessarily mean it was Voldemort-" Harry began.  
  
"Bullshit, Harry!" Ron interrupted angrily. "That's bullshit and we both know it."  
  
"Don't turn into Fudge, Harry," Rayven pleaded, almost whispering in her desperation, "There is no other reasonable explanation. Remember what Severus said about an heir--"  
  
"Fine," Harry replied wearily, closing his eyes as if he had just lost a battle. "Let's continue on the premise that Voldemort has returned, taking possession of an heir. Now what do we do?"  
  
As a collective group, they looked at Dumbledore. Dumbledore's eyes rested on Severus.   
  
"I will admit I was unprepared," Dumbledore replied, since the question was obviously meant for him, "However, certain...preventive steps have been taken since the attack at Lemon Lane. As for what to do now...discover the identity of the heir, I suppose. He or she could be a willing or unwilling participant in the return. And after that we..." he trailed off, his eyes downcast, "We will fight, just as we did before. That is all we can do."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Grace was fully intending to attend Hagrid's funeral. She felt like shit, and the guilt was bearing down on her chest like a heavy stone. However, she deserved it, all of it. The funeral would just make her feel worse, but she wanted to feel the pain. She needed the pain.  
  
The castle was full of whispers and frightened looks. The funeral was less than an hour away. Grace, James, and Angel were in the common room, silent and miserable. Angel was crying softly. Grace's full will was bent on acting normal and fighting the numbness that had descended upon her. She couldn't feel anything except the heavy guilt inside of her. However, luckily for her, James and Angel accepted this as sadness. Grace glanced at the clock, deciding it was time for them to be descending to the funeral.  
  
The mark on her arm seared painfully and suddenly. Grace bit her lip angrily. Perfect timing, as usual.  
  
"I..." she began, trying to think of what to say. Her two best friends looked at her with surprised and innocent eyes, confused as to why she had suddenly broken their silence. "I just can't handle it, I can't go to the funeral, I can't, I..." she couldn't stand their eyes. She knew Angel's wide pools of liquid silver were sympathetic and sad, not angry. She knew James's emerald orbs were confused and melancholy, not accusing, but she saw the accusations there anyway. She fled, running from the common room, her pain at their imagined accusations more painful even than the Mark burning on her arm.  
  
She ran to the Forest, forcing her friends from her mind and building Occlumency walls as she ran. By the time she had Apparated to her master's presence, her consciousness was sufficiently guarded from his prying eyes.   
  
"Yes, Master?" she inquired, bowing deeply. Yet again, not even a hint as to his appearance.   
  
"Hagrid is dead," he stated. "Very good, child."  
  
"Anything to please you," she replied, bowing again. He appeared pleased with her response.  
  
"I just wanted to inform you that you have been very helpful and shall be rewarded," he continued, "The information you gathered, with Mr. Flint has reported, will be used for an attack on Hogwarts soon. I trust that you will keep that old fool Dumbledore distracted?"  
  
"Of course, my Lord," she replied, swallowing the bile rising in her throat. He smiled, and she repressed the urge to shiver.   
  
"Excellent. You are dismissed."  
  
She bowed again and Apparated straight to the Ministry. It was crowded, of course, seeing as it was the middle of the afternoon. She pulled out her wand and whispered a Distracting Charm, lest she meet any stray members of her family or their friends. With the charm she reached Bill's office without incident. She warned him of Voldemort's plan of attack. She felt positively useless, seeing as she had no dates or times, but Bill seemed pleased with her.   
  
"Go on back, kid," he said, when she had finished, "You've had a tough week. First is always the hardest."  
  
Grace nodded, and did as he suggested. She snuck back into the castle and up to her dorm. She was asleep in minutes.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Ginny was in a damnably uncomfortable position. She had access to one of the Death Eaters, and now she was in possession of very valuable information. However, she was given the task of telling Harry what he needed to know without revealing the source. She was in for a very awkward conversation.  
  
Hagrid's funeral yesterday had been an equally uncomfortable affair. Her heart when out to Grace, trying to imagine what this must be like for her. However, it was not the first time she had been in the position of grieving for a person's death as well as the person's murderer. She shuddered remembering Percy's funeral, and the knowledge of Ron's involvement and Draco's uttering of the words that killed him.  
  
Ginny shoved the thought from her mind. It always pained her, knowing that her husband had killed her brother.   
  
She knocked gently on Harry's door, and was greeted with a gentle "come in!" Ginny never bothered with the receptionist. She was, after all, practically family.  
  
Harry didn't look as cheerful as he had sounded. His face was pale and longer than she remembered. She could see the wrinkles around his eyes more than ever now, and the gray seeping into his sable hair. He saw her and smiled, although she could see it didn't reach his heart. She smiled back.  
  
"Good afternoon, Ginny," he said, gesturing to the chair across from him as he rose. "Can I get you anything? Tea? Soda? Coffee?"  
  
"No thanks," she replied, waving him back down, "I can only stay for a moment. I came to talk about the Death Eater attacks."  
  
"Oh," he replied, sighing. "Yes, of course. What about them?"  
  
"I have..." she cleared her throat, overcoming her unease. "I have information from a reliable informant telling me that the Death Eaters are planning an attack on the school."  
  
"Hogwarts?" Harry replied, his eyes wide behind his thicker-than-ever glasses, his eyebrows raising into his hair (still as plentiful and messy as ever). That seems rather...bold, don't you think?"  
  
"Well, yes," she admitted, trying not to blush. "But I believe this particular informant. Never lied before," she explained, carefully avoiding a pronoun.  
  
"How is it that you already have informants in the Circle?" Harry asked in a would-be casual voice. Ginny laughed.  
  
"It's my job, Harry," she reminded him, "And I didn't say in the Circle, did I? Connected with the Circle, of course," she explained. It was a tricky game, and they both knew how to play it well. Not technically lying or telling the truth, their conversation was like a game of chess, or even a well-rehearsed ballet. Every step was carefully planned and thought over in advance, producing a seemingly effortless and natural result.  
  
"And what do you suggest I should do about it?" Harry asked.  
  
"Just place a few Aurors down there to be prepared. Just in case, you know. It can't hurt anyway, can it?" she pointed out reasonably. Harry studied her for a minute, and Ginny held her breath, waiting.  
  
"Alright, Gin," he conceded. "I'll send five Aurors, two on watch at a time. Will that work for you?"  
  
"Thank you so much, Harry," she breathed in relief. "You won't regret it."  
  
"I hope not," he replied. They exchanged a few more pleasantries before Ginny claimed she needed to return to work. Harry looked around his office for a moment, thinking about what had made him believe her.   
  
But he knew. He remembered, as if yesterday, the look on Ben Miner's face when Parvati Patil was found dead, and Rayven brought in for the attempted murder of Dean and Angelina Thomas. He did not want to be the man wearing that look.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Angel was eating at the Slytherin table on the last Friday in November. Tom had his hand on her knee, which made her feel safe. She was daintily sipping her pumpkin juice when the mail arrived.   
  
She wasn't paying much attention until she heard the shipsers starting all around her. People were pointing and gesturing wildly at the front page of the Daily Prophet. She frowned.   
  
"Tom, what's going on?" she asked.   
  
"I don't know," he replied, "Hold on," Standing, he approached one of the younger Slytherins who idolized him and asked to borrow their paper. She watched carefully as his eyes scanned the front page and widened.  
  
"What is it?" she demanded as he returned to his place next to her.  
  
"Here," he replied, frowning. She took the paper he offered, and gasped in surprise as she read the headline: Aurors Capture Seven Death Eaters Attempting to Attack Hogwarts.  
  
Across the room, Grace read the headline and felt her heart lighten. She looked up and met Severus's eyes over the top of the Daily Prophet he was holding. She smiled for the first time in several days.   
  
She was making a difference. 


	8. Crossing the Chasm

A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for all your wonderful reviews, I really appreciate your feedback. Keep it up! ^_~  
  
Okay, a few things about this chapter before we begin. First of all, if everything goes according to plan, this is the second to last chapter of this story *tear* I can hardly believe it. Don't worry, there will be a sequel. More on that in the next chapter.  
  
Secondly, I know I mentioned a certain Death Eater's capture in Never Turn Back. However, thanks to OotP *sigh* I'm going to go back and take that tiny little reference you probably don't remember right out of the story. His capture is in THIS chapter, so have fun with that.  
  
IMPORTANT!!!!!! PLEASE READ THIS NOTE!!!!!!!!! This story has a rating of PG 13. However, after much debate, I have decided to warn everyone that this chapter is rated R. There's nothing explicit and no more cussing than usual, but...if you don't read R as a rule, stop now. Okay, you are forwarned.  
  
Okay, with all that boring but necessary jargon, on to the story!  
  
Chapter Seven  
  
Crossing the Chasm  
  
~To walk within the lines  
  
Would make my life so boring  
  
I want to know that I have been  
  
To the extreme  
  
So knock me off my feet  
  
C'mon now, give it to me  
  
Anything to make me feel alive~  
  
**Avril Lavigne's "Anything but Ordinary"  
  
Eventually, killing became easier. Her heart no longer stopped for more than a beat when she saw the bodies fall, she no longer lost her head as she fled the scene. She even felt a tiny bit of guilty pride in seeing her Dark Mark soar above the homes that she had rid of life. The homes were merely houses now, to be sold at an auction to the lowest bidder.   
  
Grace hardly slept any more. Even on nights when she wasn't called to the Dark Lord's service (few and far between as they were) she would lie awake for hours, tossing and turning. Sometimes she saw the faces or heard the voices of her victims, in which case she would squeeze her eyes shut and bury her face in her pillow in a vain attempt to drown them out.   
  
  
  
Winter was fast approaching. In past years this would have brought a frown and wistful sigh, memories of summer playing through her mind. Grace had developed a shockingly cynical view of nostalgia. It was now a waste of time and emotion she didn't have. Summer, especially, brought a scornful smile to her face. Summer was a season for clear blue skies and sun-kissed skin, fireflies and sunsets on the beach, innocent laughter and stolen kisses. All things she had once treasured, all things that she now realized were silly, naïve things her youthful optimistic mind had once given value.   
  
December, now that was more her style. Cold and unforgiving, yet oddly beautiful. The cold, unyielding ice which seemed so innocent and attractive, hiding its secret power to kill, if it so pleases. In the weeks following her initiation into evil Grace felt her heart slowly turning to ice itself, feeling at home with the bitter wind and snow.   
  
More practically, and less poetically, winter meant longer nights. Grace had always viewed herself as a day person in the past, but she had learned to cherish the night. Severus had taught her a spell to hide the footsteps she left in the snow, and no matter what man invented for protection, there was no better cover for a one out to commit sinister deeds than darkness. Even when she was not out playing Super Spy the darkness changed the color of her bed curtains to a deep, decidedly boring shade of brown, instead of the deep, rich crimson which only reminded her of the innocent blood on her hands.  
  
Grace scowled, wondering when she had become so damnably poetic in her thoughts.  
  
The perfect Death Eater, she had decided, would be one with absolutely no imagination. That Death Eater wouldn't hear the moans of their victims' ghosts or the slight rustling of an Auror waiting to pounce. They wouldn't live in constant dread of Voldemort's unspoken threats.   
  
There was no such person.  
  
These thoughts dominated her mind these days, taking place of Charms and Transfiguration. The grades she had once cherished were slipping, and she didn't much care. What she was doing was so much more important than an A in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Her Potions grades were, of course, still top notch...but that wasn't a result of her hard work and dedication.  
  
Well, well, well, so his almighty Slytherin favortism was now passed on to a Gryffindor. How quaint.  
  
She berated herself for scorning his sympathy. It was one of the few things she had left these days.  
  
The biggest problem with winter, December specifically, was Christmas. All that good cheer and eggnog really cut into her dark, bitter love of the season. It was however, quickly approaching. And with Christmas came winter holidays and with the holidays came...her family.  
  
She winced at the mere thought. It would be the first time she faced her parents since her initiation. They would be spending Christmas Eve at Uncle Draco and Aunt Ginny's, which she could handle, seeing as Ginny knew her secret. It would be the rest of the time, with her father's fond but stern gaze and her mother's kind words entering the scene of her guilt to dance with the echoes of her murders.   
  
"Grace?" Angel's hiss interrupted her friend's increasingly morbid thoughts, "Grace, it's the last class of the year, could you PLEASE pay attention for at least FIVE minutes!"  
  
"Sorry," she muttered, her cheeks flushing. Her gaze slowly returned to Professor Flitwick, who was rattling on about nonsense as usual. Grace rolled her, eyes, but managed to retain a relative level of consciousness until the bell finally rang.  
  
Just when she was celebrating with joy like everyone else at the prospect of two weeks of freedom (minus the giant pile of homework awaiting her) Grace remembered what the holidays entailed and immediately sobered. James and Angel exchanged looks, but then again, Grace had been acting very oddly as of late.  
  
The hours that passed like molasses for everyone else flew by for Grace in her dread. Before she knew what was going on she was being jostled into the Hogwarts Express at the Hogsmeade Station, then jostled out again at Platform 9 3/4. Angel and James were by her side of course. However while in the past their presence had given her courage, her innocent friends now made her feel even worse.  
  
"Mum!" Angel cried, spying Ginny from across the station. Grace forced her eyes up. As she had expected, her parents, as well as the Potters, were standing with Ginny and Draco.  
  
"Hey Mum, hey Dad," James called, flailing his arms as they shoved their way toward their parents. It was Harry who spotted the trio, and grinning pointed them out to the other parents.  
  
"Grace!" Rayven cried, throwing her arms around her one and only daughter. Grace hugged her back fiercely, then embraced her father. This reunion was only reminding her again of how much she was risking with this spy business.   
  
And how much they had risked.  
  
She hadn't really thought about it much until recently, but it occurred to her, as she looked up at her father's smiling face, that he had once been the Innercircle assassin, and he had once killed as ruthlessly as she did. The thought made her nauseous. It was one thing for Grace to be a heartless murder, but her beloved parents...  
  
She glanced at Angel, who had now been joined by Phil, and wondered if Angel ever thought about her father's involvement with the Death Eaters. Even if she did, she has no idea what its really like, Grace thought sourly. Neither did I, she realized, her stomach flipping, I joined voluntarily.   
  
She pushed the thought to the back of her mind. After all, it was Christmas!  
  
The first few days of holiday were blessedly normal. It was as if Voldemort had forgotten her existence, which was all to the good in Grace's opinion. Before she knew it was Christmas Eve and she was throwing floo powder into the fireplace and demanding to be taken to Malfoy Manor.  
  
"Grace!" Angel exclaimed when she crawled out of the fire place covered in soot. Angel didn't much care, soot was easily removed with magic. The two friends embraced, and Grace even managed a sincere smile for her friend.  
  
"Angel," she replied, almost playfully. They were interrupted by a loud crash from another room.  
  
"My brother," she rolled her eyes. Behind them Grace's parents had arrived and where magically removing the residue from the chimney from their clothes, and performed the favor for Grace and Angel (who was equally covered after the fond embrace) before letting the girls go along their merry way.  
  
"Is James here?" Grace asked once they were out of earshot.  
  
"In my room," Angel replied. "Speaking of which, what is going ON with you too? I mean, he kissed you, then got jealous because you were flirting with other guys, and he stares at you in class! Grace, you've liked him for years, what other signs could you possibly be waiting for?"  
  
"I guess I've just grown up and moved past James Potter," Grace shrugged. And a number of other things, she added mentally.  
  
"Well...if you say so," Angel replied uneasily, "But I've always been sure you were meant for each other and you waited so long...don't you even want to give him a chance?"  
  
"Just leave it alone, okay?" Grace snapped, her increasingly short Death Eater temper getting the better of her.   
  
"Okay, okay," Angel conceded in a hurt voice. Grace felt a twinge of guilt, but didn't dwell on it. As if she didn't have enough on her mind.  
  
They finally got up to Angel's room (Malfoy Manor was positively enormous, and Angel's room was, quite inconveniently, as far from the entering fireplace as possible). Grace had just hugged James in the way of greeting, her stomach twisting with the vivid memories of the kiss and Angel's words, but her hopes crush by even more vivid memories of her dear master Lord Voldemort, when a bell rang throughout the house signaling that Christmas dinner was served. Angel groaned.  
  
"You know, Mum and Dad don't care because they can Apparate from one room to another," she whined as they began the trek down to the dining room. Grace smirked, refraining from Apparating right then just to show off-and revealing her particular training. "But Phil and I have to actually WALK!"  
  
"It's not that bad, Miss Angel," Brassett, the Malfoy's ghost butler, commented as he floated by. Grace and James, not used to dead servants, jumped as they usually did when Brassett made a sudden appearance, but Angel just made a face at him and continued on her journey to dinner.  
  
The feast was excellent, thanks to the abundant and talented house elves. They weren't paid, although James's mother had made Uncle Draco promise to pay them if they so desired. However, they were well-treated, which is more than many house elves outside of Hogwarts could say.  
  
Dinner ended after a fabulous desert of plum pudding and fruit tart. Everyone then retired to the enormous parlor, decorated in warm and welcoming colors by Aunt Ginny. The adults had coffee, and the trio had hot cocoa in identical mugs in an attempt to feel older. Elizabeth also had cocoa, and was looking down snobbishly at Luke, Anna, and Phil. They youngest three didn't much care though. Luke and Phil were comparing chocolate frog cards and Anna was talking to anyone who would listen, thrilled to have everyone back from school for the holidays.  
  
Grace sighed contentedly and leaned back in her chair. This was what she was fighting for, after all. Holiday cheer and laughter, lights gleaming softly on smiling faces, peaceful moments with the entire family...okay, so she wasn't technically related to the Potters, but they were family in all but name.  
  
They would be family if Grace and James were married...  
  
WHOA! Where had that come from? Obviously with all that time out from Death Eater duty Grace's mind had found the time to wander back to that old, unending crush on her best friend. She would have scowled, but the Christmas cheer didn't seem to permit it...  
  
She suddenly sat up stiffly. It appeared that the Christmas cheer DID permit her Dark Mark to burn, summoning her to the Dark Lord's side. She looked around, the comfort and love around her she had just been contemplating was suddenly surreal and far away. She managed to keep her composer long enough to ask to talk to Aunt Ginny. Alone. Outside.  
  
Ginny smiled and excused them pleasantly. The moment they exited the parlor she summoned Grace's Death Eaters ensemble and handed it to her, a serious look clouding her seconds-ago happy face.  
  
"Aunt-" Grace began.  
  
"Summons, I know," Ginny replied stiffly, "I'll make your excuses, don't worry about a thing. You can Apparate from here. Go!" she exclaimed. Hesitating just long enough to give her aunt a grateful smile, Grace did as she was commanded.  
  
She did not arrive in a clearing in a snowy forest under a cloudy sky as she had expected. She was in another manor, similar to the one she had just left. It was a ballroom, she knew immediately, and tastefully decorated with ornate moulds and lots of the emerald green favored by Slytherins. There was a crest she didn't recognize surrounding them.  
  
She was surprised to see several others waiting for her. The tall, completely covered form of Voldemort was in the center, and she counted six other masked figures. Even as she stood, her mind completely blank thanks to her Occlumency abilities, three more arrived.   
  
Grace was not stupid. She felt her throat go dry as it all came together in her mind. The Innercircle, of course! As the last of the Death Eaters arrived Voldemort gestured for silence. He let them stand and sweat for a few moments before speaking.  
  
"Reveal your faces," he commanded. Hands shaking, his servants did as they were asked. Grace felt her eyes widen in amazement as she saw what was before her. Obviously she and Damian Flint weren't the only Death Eaters in Hogwarts.  
  
Henry Holiday was among the first he recognized. His eyes widened slightly when they came in contact within hers. He was probably pretty shocked to see such a renowned Gryffindor in their midst. There was a Ravenclaw and a few adults, but mostly Slytherin students. Looking around, she was shocked to discover that Tom Flint was not among those called.  
  
Maybe Angel was right, she thought, maybe he's not evil. The thought was difficult enough to comprehend when she wasn't trying to completely empty her mind, so she shoved it to the back for the moment.  
  
"You ten have proven faithful and useful in my few months of trial. I'm sure you know why you are here. I will approach you one at a time," The Dark Lord intoned monotonously. To her great surprise, Grace was the first approached. She heard faint muttering from those around her. She knew this was a great honor...  
  
The greatest honor for the traitorous spy. Oh how Grace had come to love the irony of life.  
  
"Whom do you serve?" he asked her.  
  
"You, my Lord," she answered bravely, bowing. He raised his wand and she clenched her jaw.  
  
It was futile to try and prepare oneself for the onslaught of pain Cruciatus brought. No matter how many times you had writhed under its influence, you could never be ready. She endured the pain for several eternities, and when she was finally released and could feel only the constant echo of the torture she struggled to her feet, blood pouring from her a cut just above her right eye and her knees shaking. She was well aware or nine other eyes watching every drop of blood and salty water drip down her face.  
  
She watched them endure the same, her pain hardly weakening. The screams of her compatriots penetrated her skin and seemed to be trapped in her chest, making her heart contract painfully and her stomach churn. She wanted nothing more than to look away, and yet her eyes were glued to the thrashing forms.  
  
"Welcome to the Innercircle," Voldemort said blandly as the last defeated Death Eater stood in shame and fear. "You are now the chosen...the privileged. One of those privileges is knowing the face of your Lord and Master."  
  
Grace had to use every drop of energy within her to keep her Occlumency in place. As it was, she was sure her head had snapped up somewhat, and her eyes had widened. His identity...the form he was taking...she practically drooled at the thought of Bill's face when she revealed this information. She shoved the thought away with all the strength she could muster.   
  
"However," he continued, not realizing Grace's internal struggle for power, "I have had traitors in my midst before, and I am not stupid. Therefore..." He raised his wand, and the Death Eaters winced. However, the blue mist that descended upon them merely tingled somewhat, actually a rather pleasant sensation after the Cruciatus Curse.   
  
"My identity cannot be revealed to one without my Mark," he said. Grace closed her eyes again, her Occlumency nearly slipping as her heart plummeted. However, her eyes remained fixed on her master as he slowly, ever so slowly, lowered the cloak. He was going so very slowly, and her whole being ached so painfully...she felt somewhat lightheaded from using so much magical energy on the Occlumency. She was ready to faint when she finally saw Lord Voldemort's smirking face. She felt her heart stop and all the air leave her body.  
  
She was looking at the all-too-familiar face of one Thomas Flint.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Bill Croaker knew he should be at home, asleep. It was one in the morning on Christmas Day and Grace was staying with Ginny, so if she needed anything she could just go back to Malfoy Manor and it wouldn't be in the least bit suspicious. However, bill had no family to speak of and Christmas had always been lonely, especially since Dennis died seventeen years ago.   
  
Something was keeping him in his office, playing solitaire with cards so worn he was the only one who could really understood what they said. He knew that he should be fast asleep, and that if he were truly just lonely he could just go the Malfoy's and they would be happy to have him. But somehow he couldn't bring himself to leave.  
  
This proved to be for the best when Grace Weasley came stumbling into his office, blood drying on her face and her whole body shaking.  
  
"Jesus," he breathed, catching the tiny form as it crumpled. He lowered her gently into a chair and grabbed his wand, muttering spells to heal her wounds and ease her pain. As if that were really possible anymore. Perhaps there would be nothing for her parents to see tomorrow morning, but the real wounds Voldemort was leaving on this child were much deeper than visible scars and much more difficult to heal.  
  
"Grace?" he asked gently. "Grace, can you hear me?"  
  
She moaned faintly in response. "Grace, what happened?" he demanded urgently.  
  
"I...I was initiated into the Inner..." she interrupted herself by going into a sudden coughing fit. Blood spattered from her mouth onto her hand. "Sorry," she whispered, realizing some of the blood had reached Bill.  
  
"Don't worry about it," he commanded fiercely. "The Innercircle, then?" he said, continuing to recite every medical spell he could remember. The blood disappeared, and she sighed in relief.  
  
"Yes," she replied, her voice stronger and appreciation in her eyes. "Bill, Voldemort is--"  
  
For Grace the world suddenly stopped, as if a pause button had been punched. She forced her voice to say Tom Flint, but nothing came out. She tried again and again, but nothing was working. Her mouth was just hanging there, half open, ready to finish her sentence. However, she finally realized, Voldemort's spell was preventing her from telling Bill that Tom Flint had sacrificed his soul to allow Voldemort's to inhabit his body. Anger flared through her, but there was nothing she could do.  
  
"-Powerful," she finally finished. However, to Bill it seemed there hadn't even been a pause, as if that had been her original intent all the time. Another effect of the spell, she thought scornfully. He nodded sympathetically.  
  
"I know, Grace," he replied. "Do you have some names for me?"  
  
"Henry Holiday, Kevin Vanderburgh..." she rattled off all the student she recognized, surprised and relieved that the spell didn't prevent her from doing that either. After she had given a full report, including descriptions and all the personal information she had on all the recognized Death Eaters, she stood to leave.  
  
"Are you sure you shouldn't floo or something?" Bill asked concernedly. "I have a connection directly to Ginny's bedroom-"  
  
"That would be fun to explain to Uncle Draco," Grace replied, rolling her eyes. "I'm perfectly fine, Bill, I can Apparate, don't worry about it."  
  
"Are you sure?" he asked again.   
  
"YES!" she cried. "I'll see you soon, I'm sure, okay? Merry Christmas," she added as an afterthought before disappearing into thin air. Bill sat down with a sigh, and dealt a new game of solitaire.  
  
Grace arrived on the front porch of the Manor. She opened the door silently, tiptoeing up to the guest room she always used when she stayed there. She hadn't gone more than ten feet before she heard a voice.  
  
"Grace?"  
  
Swearing under her breath, Grace turned to face a very inquisitive James Potter. "Uh...hey," she muttered, her right hand automatically crossing over and gripping her left arm over the Dark Mark even though she knew he couldn't see it through all her clothing.  
  
"Where were you?" he demanded. "Ginny told us you felt sick and went to bed."  
  
"Um...er..." Grace's mind suddenly shifted and she heard James, a game show host with a fake microphone and even more phony smile ask where she had been as a blonde vixen showed off the brand new car that would be her prize if she answered the question correctly as she pressed the big red button that would allow here to reveal her whereabouts with Voldemort and win the prize.  
  
Or not.  
  
With that thought, she panicked and grabbed her wand. "Obliviate!" she cried. James eyes went glazed for a moment, then finally focused on Grace again, who had gone into the kitchen and was opening a cupboard to find a glass.  
  
"What are you doing?" James asked. "I thought you were sick."  
  
"Getting some water," Grace replied. "I know there's a bathroom upstairs, but I guess I kind of spaced." She smiled shyly at him as she had done so many times before, and he gave her a lopsided grin in return.   
  
"We'd better get to bed," Grace finally said as the silence dragged on for a moment longer than was comfortable. "Anna and them will have us up pretty early."  
  
"Yeah," he replied. "Er...goodnight Grace."  
  
"'Night James," she replied.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Morsmodre," Grace muttered, watching with detached interest as her Dark Mark soared above the large Muggle home. Randolph Vinder, the Minister of Defense, was her first official victim as the Assassin of the Innercircle. Turning with a twisted smile and repressed tears she Apparated into the night.   
  
The Ministry was still and silent, which was to be expected seeing as it was nearly two in the morning. She hid her mask but kept her hood up to hide her face and all-too-conspicuous bright red Weasley hair.  
  
"Bill!" she exclaimed, starting to lower her cloak as she finally reached his office. He leapt from his chair and motioned for her not to reveal her face even though the office was deserted.   
  
"What happened?" he asked in a whisper.  
  
"Muggle Minister of Defense," Grace replied with a frown. "What's going on?"  
  
"An Auror squadron caught a live Death Eater we've been searching for for over twenty years," he replied quickly, "And they're bringing him up here for questioning."  
  
"Who?" she demanded curiously. Bill's eyes flickered to the door before answering.  
  
"Peter Pettigrew."  
  
"WHAT?!" she cried, her eyes widening suddenly.   
  
"Yes, I-" Bill broke off with a swear word. "Stand in the corner and don't make any noise." No sooner had Grace followed his instructions and hidden herself in the shadows than three Aurors burst into the office with a bald, stooped man in shackles and tattered robes.  
  
"Leave him here," Bill commanded imperiously, "I have informed the Minister." The Aurors nodded and then left.  
  
The Minister...but that was Harry! Grace winced at the thought of the look on her godfather's face if he discovered her hiding in a thick black cloak in the corner of an office of the Department of Mysteries.  
  
There were a few moments of complete silence in which Grace was sure Bill could hear her heart pounding from across the room. The pathetic creature that was Peter Pettigrew was slumped in a sad tableau in the center of the room.  
  
She flinched when she heard the tell-tale sounds from the other side of the door telling her someone had arrived. She bit her lip, her eyes still glued to the door, waiting for Harry's grand entrance, her parents and the others in tow.  
  
Severus Snape stormed into the room alone. Pettigrew saw him and squeaked, fumbling backward as Grace's eyes widened in confusion and surprise. Severus didn't notice her presence-or Bill's for that matter. He strode forward without stopping, his eyes fixed on Pettigrew's quickly retreating form. Without warning Severus raised his fist and rammed it into the other man's face.  
  
"Severus!" Bill cried, interfering as he raised his arm again, ready for another hit. Bill grabbed the limb and the two men glared at one another, Severus breathing heavily. They probably would have stood there all night if Harry and his entourage had not suddenly arrived on the scene.  
  
"Professor Snape! Mr. Croaker! What is going on here?" Harry demanded. Severus slowly lowered his hand and took a step backward, his flashing eyes now staring angrily at Pettigrew once again. Harry's eyes were, if possible, full of even more angry hatred, but when he spoke his voice was controlled and eve. "Professor Snape, what is your business here?" Severus's eyes snapped to meet Harry's, but it was Bill who answered.  
  
"He was coming to collect his apprentice," Bill said calmly. "She has the ingredients you requested, against my better judgment. Honestly, Severus, what are you trying to concoct now that requires so many illegal entities?"  
  
"It's not entirely poisonous, I assure you," he answered, his eyes finding Grace for the first time. She was the only one who saw his surprise at seeing her and his still smouldering anger. "Are you ready, child?" he barked coldly. She nodded, biting back a sarcastic remark pertaining to his calling her a "child".  
  
He turned and strode out of the room. Grace forced herself to follow, her head bent and cheeks flaming despite her anonymity in the black hood. Well...near anonymity. She felt Ginny's gaze following her knowingly.   
  
Once in the hall she had to run to keep up with Severus's pace. "What was that?" she demanded breathlessly.  
  
"None of your concern," he replied curtly.  
  
"But-" she began to argue.  
  
"What are YOU doing here?" he interrupted, looking as annoyed as she had ever seen him. She rolled her eyes.  
  
"Debriefing the Ministry of my activities, obviously. Now, why-"  
  
"You should get home before your parents realize you're gone," Severus said firmly, making it clear he was not going to answer any of her questions. "They know you like Potions and might become curious if they realize you were gone while my apprentice was off fetching supplies." He gave her a wry smile, "Your father was once my apprentice, you know."  
  
"Yes, I know," she replied, her head bowed. He laid a hand on the bowed head, and when she finally thought she had his trust she looked up to ask him about Pettigrew.  
  
He was gone.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The holidays passed quickly, and school resumed, to the disappointment of many, including Grace. At least when she was at home she could sleep in after a night full of murder followed by Ministry briefing followed by guilty tossing and turning for hours. Class offered no such luxury. Her grades were falling worse than ever now and she cared less and less.  
  
They had finally found a replacement for Hagrid. The position of Care of Magical Creatures teacher had been given to none other than Charlie Weasley. Grace had been thrilled to see him in the castle. He had always been her favorite uncle...well, he and Draco were pretty close.  
  
However, after about a minute of happiness Grace realized he was just one more person in potential danger, and one more person who would be disappointed if her identity was discovered.  
  
But with all of that, the worst part of being in school was seeing Angel and Tom Flint together. The first morning she had walked into the Great Hall and seen them eating together she ran to a bathroom and threw up. In one day she would watch him kiss her best friend then listen and bow as he commanded her to kill the innocent.   
  
It was yet another irony that while Angel was Tom's girlfriend Grace was at his house nearly every night. It was the Flint Manor he was occupying, of course, and Grace was beginning to know the layout of that manor as well as the castle.  
  
So when Grace was summoned in the early evening in the last week in January, she didn't think it was anything special. Another murder, another sleepless night. It was all the same anymore, her entire existence was a haze of horror flitting between reality and nightmare.  
  
She arrived in what she immediately recognized as the foyer. However, Voldemort/Tom was nowhere in sight. Instead, to her extreme annoyance, Grace found a sniveling house elf awaiting her.  
  
"Follow Misery, Miss," the house squeaked mournfully, leading the way up the stairs. Grace frowned, realizing the thing's name must be Misery. She rolled her eyes. Only a Flint, honestly.  
  
She was lead as far away from the entrance as possible to a section of the Manor she had only entered once before: The Northwest Tower. It was the tallest tower of the four, and presumably his favorite. Men, she thought, rolling her eyes, before summoning her Occlumency around her.  
  
Misery the house elf stopped outside of a thick wooden door, gesturing for her to entire. The creature disappeared the moment Grace's hand reached for the knob, its job done. In normal circumstances Grace would have felt a twinge of sympathy and guilt. The elf was obviously scared out of its wits. However, in her Death Eater mood this hardly even registered in her mind, let alone evoked precious and rare emotion.  
  
She pulled open the heavy door and entered a room she had never seen before. It was decorated in black and silver, heavy velvet contrasting with fine silk. A giant bed dominated the room, its hangings matching the rest of the room. Voldemort was standing next to it.  
  
She found it difficult to bury her curiosity and surprise. He was not in a thick black cloak hiding his true appearance as she was used to. He was actually wearing his school uniform, just like she was, his green and silver tie loosely thrown around his neck. She had never approached him as his servant when he seemed so very near her age, so real, so...normal.   
  
"My Lord," she bowed, nearly failing to show proper respect by addressing him as Tom.  
  
"Good evening, Grace," he replied, and she felt her hair stand on end a shiver through her spine as he called her by her given name. He smiled at her, and stared down on her, his deep eyes of melted chocolate cold and unreadable as always.  
  
"What do you wish?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. His smile widened, and he sauntered toward her. He was obviously pleased by her fear.  
  
"You are a pretty girl, Grace Weasley," he said, a finger tracing her jaw line. It felt like fire on her skin, and she closed her eyes for a minute to keep the Occlumency in place.   
  
"Th...Thank you, my Lord," she stuttered, trying not to let the disgust enter her voice. His eyes wandered down her body then back up in a way she did not at all like. He suddenly grabbed her wrists and pulled her closer. Their eyes were locked, and his face was so close she could feel his hot breath on her cheek.  
  
"What do you want?" she whispered. He smiled again, lowering his mouth to her ear.  
  
"I think you know what I want," he whispered huskily. Grace's eyes widened in fear. She twisted her wrists, trying with all her might to pull away, but in vain. He laughed and picked her up, carrying her to his bed.  
  
He raped her as he did everything, quickly and efficiently. He left her lying naked and shivering, tears pouring down her face. An eternity of darkness passed as she lay there, waiting for the welcome arms of Death.  
  
Eventually she stood, pulling on her tattered clothes with shaking hands. She found her wand in one piece and Apparated. She fell to her knees in the snow and threw up violently for several minutes, pain she had never known consuming her. Then she stood and ran, ran as she had never run before. She ran through the grounds and into the castle, which was just beginning to sleep. There were a few night owls in the common room, but she paid them little attention. She slammed the door to her dorm room, not caring who was awakened, and ran into the bathroom.  
  
She turned the water on as hot as it would go and threw up again in the toilet before actually getting into the shower. The scalding water was doing nothing. Grabbing a washcloth Grace scrubbed her body until the skin was raw and bleeding, but she still felt filthy.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
James didn't begin to worry about Grace until lunch. He was used to eating breakfast alone by then and he knew Grace slept in occasionally and arrived in the afternoon, slightly embarrassed but none the worse for the extra sleep. However, she usually showed up in time for a meal.  
  
He waited for her, watching the door through all his afternoon classes, unable to even think of somewhere she could possibly be. True, she had been acting strange lately, but this was entirely new.  
  
By dinner he was seriously worried. He grabbed Angel and pulled her out of the swarm clamoring to reach their suppers in the Great Hall.  
  
"Where's Gold?" he hissed.  
  
"I don't know," she replied, her eyes widening, "I was going to ask YOU where she was!" James swore and Angel bit her lip. "I'll go upstairs and check the common room, okay? I'll meet you in the Great Hall. Okay...James?"  
  
"Yeah, fine," he replied, waving somewhat distractedly. His mind was whirring, trying to solve this new enigma in his progressively more confusing friendship with Grace Weasley.  
  
The thing was, he would daydream in class about their one kiss, remembering those few moments where he was kissing her and she was kissing him back and they were in love, if only in that teenaged, silly sense. He was dying for answers, wishing to know more than anything why she had run away.  
  
It sounded incredibly egotistical and self-centered, and James almost felt bad thinking it, but he had assumed Grace had a crush on him and would be happy to return his feelings now that he had discovered them. He couldn't pinpoint the moment he realized he was head-over-heels for his best friend and his godfather's only daughter, but the time since then had an ongoing roller coaster of unpredictable emotional twists.  
  
He sat down at the Gryffindor table and pushed the food around on his plate, wishing he could break into Grace's mind and figure out what was going on in there. He was just contemplating researching Legilimency when Angel ran into the Great Hall, plopping next to him and reaching for the beef.  
  
"Well?" James demanded.  
  
"She's sick," Angel rolled her eyes.  
  
"Well then, why isn't she in the Hospital Wing?" James retorted.   
  
"She says its just nausea or something," Angel replied, shrugging.  
  
"But Madame Pomfrey can FIX that!" James cried, annoyed that he didn't understand when Angel obviously did.  
  
"She doesn't want to bother, James, just leave her alone," she sighed. James glared and went back to pushing around his dinner.  
  
He couldn't sleep that night. Just after midnight he gave up and threw on his bathrobe, sneaking down into the common with the feeble hope that the fire would help.  
  
He didn't realize until he was at the bottom of the steps that Grace was already there. She was sitting on the sofa in front of the blazing fire, her arms wrapped around herself. He took a few tentative steps forward and realized that despite the fire's heat she was shivering.  
  
"Grace?" he muttered. She jumped and spun around. The fire gave her face an eerie glow and her eyes seemed even more unnatural than usual in the darkness.  
  
"Hey," she whispered.  
  
"Do you mind if I sit down?" he asked, gesturing to the rest of the sofa. She shrugged, and he sat. There was a silence in which they both simply sat staring into the fire, lost in their own thoughts.  
  
"Are you feeling better?" he finally asked.  
  
"What?" she replied, sounding confused. "Oh. Right, that...a little better, I suppose."  
  
The silence dragged on.  
  
"Grace..." he said her name again, desperate for this night not to be wasted.  
  
"What?" she asked, turning to meet his gaze. Her face and eyes were completely blank. He didn't know what to say to convey his meaning, so he simply acted on impulse and kissed her.  
  
She went rigid as a bored as his lips brushed hers. His hand found her arm and it was stiff and unforgiving. He tried for a moment to make her react, but then realized her eyes were wide open and she was staring at him as if he were trying to kill her.  
  
"Er...Grace, I-" But he got no further. Grace stood slowly, her hand on her mouth, her eyes still wide and staring down at him. She then turned and ran faster than anything he had ever seen up the stairs to the girl's dormitory. James sighed and turned his gaze back to the fire.  
  
Looked like he had messed it up again.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Grace started going to class after that, but James and Angel's worries did not stop. She didn't pay any attention in class, or any where else for that matter, and she never ate that they could see. Angel whispered to James that to the best of her knowledge, she hadn't slept either.  
  
Grace, for her part, didn't want sleep or food or anything that would bring her life. Her friends tried to make her go to the Hospital Wing, but she fought them off. Medicine was the last thing she wanted.  
  
Severus was worried, and she knew it. He even took the risk of holding her after class. She told him she was tired, which was true. But it was not her reason for wanting to die.  
  
She was trying to move on, trying to move past that...that...incident in the Northwest Tower of Flint Manor in January. But every time she closed her eyes, every time she heard a boy speak of a girl, every time she saw HIM...  
  
Angel looked at her curiously, and Grace smiled for show. She was still an actress, after all, for that's all a spy is, really. An actor on the great stage of the illusion which so many people believed was reality. She smirked...there was that poetic streak again.  
  
"Gold, eat SOMETHING, won't you?" Angel wheedled, holding out a piece of toast.  
  
"I'm not hungry," she shrugged, forcing the bile in her throat to go down as she glanced at the food.  
  
"If you're sick you should see Madame Pomfrey," James insisted for the hundredth time. Grace shrugged, not meeting his eye.  
  
If there was one thing she wanted to avoid more than food, it was James. She knew all he wanted was some easy girl. That's how all men worked, she now realized. There seemed to be a great chasm separating her life before and after....It. And her crush on James, or anybody for that matter, was left on the other side of that expanse.   
  
They had Care of Magical Creatures that morning, which required walking through the snow. James and Angel were looking forward to it. All the students loved Professor Weasley, who was promising to bring a baby dragon before the end of the year. The two of them got a little ahead of Grace, which was probably to be expected.  
  
It wasn't until they were nearly at the hut that they realized she was gone. James turned, his blood running cold at what he saw.  
  
For a moment he saw Grace, her fiery hair and black robes standing out against the pure snow. She was only about half way to the hut. Then, suddenly, he saw her fall.  
  
He sprinted toward her, his mind racing with worry and dread. However, he was not the first person on the scene.  
  
When he reached Grace, she was already being lifted into Professor Snape's arms. Looking up, James saw the man's face twisted with worry, nearly as pale as the girl in his arms. Angel and Professor Weasley soon joined them with the rest of the class, nudging each other for a better view.  
  
"What's wrong with her, Severus?" Weasley demanded.  
  
"I don't know, but she needs medical attention desperately," he replied. "She's freezing." James heard a soft moan from his friend and started forward, trying desperately to see if she was okay.  
  
"Grace?" he demanded.  
  
"Daddy?" she whispered, looking around in confusion.  
  
"Sh," Snape commanded harshly. Grace looked up at him, then around at her classmates and uncle, clearly bewildered. Then her eyes widened and she began to weep.  
  
"What's going on?" Weasley demanded angrily.  
  
"I don't know," he repeated again. "But we have to get her out of the snow."  
  
With that Professor Severus Snape turned and marched into the castle, his apprentice in his arms. 


	9. The Confrontation

A/N: Well guys, I can hardly believe it. This story has tested my patience, my creativity, and my sanity, but I got through it intact...except the sanity part...*wink* Seriously though, the feedback has been wonderful. Yes, this is the last chapter. *tear* But I'm posting the epilogue tomorrow or the next day (thank yous with the epilogue, I PROMISE!). If I messed up the lyrics to this song, I am so, so sorry. I've only heard it three times in my life and I wrote down the lyrics as I listened so I'm not ENTIRELY sure if they're right. I'm not trying to rip anyone off!  
  
And everyone...MERRY CHRISTMAS! Crazy, isn't it? I posted the prologue on Christmas Day 2003 and today is Christmas Eve 2004. And Happy Holidays for anyone who doesn't celebrate Christmas. I really can't spell Hann...Hanak...you know what I mean.  
  
Thanks a million for your reviews! I love you all! There will be a sequel (of COURSE there will be a sequel...this is a trilogy, you know). The sequel is called...you're gonna love it.... "Turning Back". Some of you knew that was coming. Some didn't. *grin* Well, that's about it for now. I apologize in advance for the ending. But remember...sequel...  
  
And without further ado about nothing:  
  
Chapter Eight:  
  
The Confrontation  
  
~I'm so tired of being here  
  
Suppressed by my childish feelings  
  
And if you have to leave  
  
I wish that you would just leave  
  
Cause your presence still lingers here  
  
And it won't leave me alone  
  
These wounds won't seem to heal  
  
This pain is just too real  
  
There's just too much that time cannot erase~  
  
**My Immortal by Evanescence   
  
"Grace?" a comforting voice from far away whispered. "Grace...Wake up. Wake up!" the second time it was a command, which she immediately obeyed. To her great surprise she was in the hospital wing. Dumbledore was at the foot of the bed, but it was Severus, sitting in the chair next to her, who had awoken her.  
  
"Feeling better?" Dumbledore asked in a falsely cheery voice. She shrugged.  
  
"Grace, what is the matter with you?" Severus demanded, and she flinched. She hadn't wanted him to know anything...they DIDN'T know anything, did they? Snape continued ruthlessly, "Angel Malfoy said you haven't been sleeping, I KNOW you haven't been eating. What in the hell happened to you?"  
  
"N...nothing happened," she stuttered, "I'm just tired, that's all."  
  
"Yes, which caused you to faint in the middle of the day," Severus snapped sarcastically.  
  
"Don't be so rash, Severus," Dumbledore chided. "Exhaustion can to that, as you should know."  
  
"I do know," he scowled. "Grace," he began again, "Are you sure there's not anything you want to tell me? I will understand, you know I will. I've done it to."  
  
No, Grace thought savagely. No, you haven't been where I've been, Severus Snape. And I hope to God no one ever has to be there. No, Professor Snape, this is one thing you haven't done, one time I've stepped out of my Apprentice's bonds and done something completely different.   
  
"I'm fine," she finally insisted. "Just tired. Can you tell them I'm sick or something? I just need a day to recover from...from all this."  
  
"Okay," he nodded. "Mr. Potter and Miss Malfoy have been badgering Madame Pomfrey. Do you want to see them?"  
  
"No!" Grace shouted in alarm. "No," she repeated more calmly, "Just tell them I'm really contagious with...with..."  
  
"I'm sure we can handle it, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore smiled. "Here," he handed her a goblet full of clear violet liquid, "Drink this and rest, child."  
  
Grace nodded and swallowed it down. The potion was cool and wonderful, immediately lulling her to a sleep without dreams.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Everything was black. It was as if there was no top or bottom, beginning or end, just one continuing black expanse. He would run forward as fast as possible, running for ages until finally ramming against a impenetrable wall as black as everything around him.  
  
Thomas Flint was trapped in his own mind.  
  
For a while, he had thought he was dead. That didn't keep him from trying to escape, ramming against the walls until he was so exhausted he couldn't stand. However, every once in a great while the walls would crack, and he would glimpse the blessedly bright world he knew and recognized through his very own eyes before being shoved into imprisonment once again.  
  
He wasn't entirely sure how he had gotten there, or why he was trapped. He only knew that somehow, some way, someone had managed to take the soul of Tom Flint and trap it in a black box, shoved into the back of his mind.  
  
But Tom was not a quitter. And when he reached those points where all he could do was sink to the floor and fight the tears he would force himself to remember Angel and stand again with renewed strength.   
  
Tom continued with foes unknown to battle for dominance of his will.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The graveyard was gray and desolate. A cold wind wept through the bare branches of the trees overhead. Everywhere else the first signs of spring could be seen, but not here. Here it was eternally a bitter winter.  
  
Draco Malfoy walked the familiar paths, his black cloak fluttering around him in the unforgiving breeze. To the Circle of the Two-Faced there was something oddly comforting about the place. To them, death would always be regarded more with relief than fear. The Circle went to the graveyard once a year together.  
  
Draco went once a year alone.  
  
He wasn't sure if the others did the same. He had never asked. It was a very personal experience. Draco himself wouldn't have even told Ginny if there was any way to avoid it. As it was, she understood that after nearly five years in the Dark Lord's surface there were wounds that would never heal and there would be times he simply needed solitude.  
  
His eyes traveled to the names solemnly engraved in the marble and stone around him. He recognized many of the names...too many for a man of only thirty-six years. Every once in a while he would even see one of his very own murder victims. But he was not here to dwell on that. He had a specific purpose. His pace was quick and unhesitating. He didn't pause until he had reached one of the many small gray headstones under a large, bare oak tree. He stopped abruptly, staring at the name, then closed his eyes.  
  
Angel.  
  
He could see her just as clearly now as when he had last seen her nearly eighteen years ago. Her light brown curls, smiling face and light blue eyes, so very different than his beloved wife's, shone like a beacon in his memory. Angel Pentser, one of their own.  
  
He could remember the day she died. He could remember the way her body looked, covered in blood and lying on her bed, the word 'traitor' spelled above her head. He could remember the sick feeling in his stomach and the numbness of his limbs as he stared. They had enjoyed a very brief romantic affair, rudely interrupted by her untimely murder. She had sacrificed her life-a loving, selfless life-for the sake of Lord Voldemort's defeat.  
  
And now it seemed her death was in vain.  
  
Draco's fists clenched at the thought. His thoughts drifted to the current war, and he found himself silently asking Angel for advice. It was silly, he knew, to ask a dead woman for advice, but he couldn't help but remember her unique ability to produce solutions for any problem. His daughter, her namesake, had the same gift.   
  
The key at this point was finding Voldemort's heir. It could be anyone, of any age. He must have hidden him (or her, his wife's voice added in his mind) from the world...or at least Britain. Perhaps the heir hadn't been raised in the country...or maybe raised by a respectable family...or...  
  
Draco's thoughts were racing through his mind, incoherent and incomplete. He gritted his teeth, searching for something to focus on. His eyes fell back on Angel's name, and he focused on it, ingraining the letters into his mind. Angel Pentsur. Angel...gel, an, leg, lag, gale, la, lane...Draco found his mind rearranging the letters of her name like a children's game as if it were some kind of code. It was fairly embarrassing, but it kept his mind from exploding. Pentser...ten, sent, teen, nest, pen, peer, seep, pent....ser....serpent...  
  
Serpent. Angel's dark history. Her knowledge of the Dark Arts. The Dark Lord's immediate acceptance and favor. The brutality of her killing. Her mysterious, unknown family. Her interpretation of Voldemort's actions. Her knowledge of his lair and his history. Her pale skin. The way her eyes flashed...  
  
Angel Pentsur. Angel Serpent. Serpent, Angel...The SERPENT'S angel...  
  
All of Draco's thoughts were completely overshadowed by this new revelation. Was it possible that Angel Pentser was the Dark Lord's daughter and it was HER child that he now possessed? It made so much sense, he suddenly realized, filled in so many gaps...  
  
There was only one person alive who had known her well enough to answer his questions. He turned and Apparated from the graveyard.  
  
"Good afternoon, Draco," Ron commented, raising an eyebrow as his brother-in-law popped into his living room without warning. "Are you looking for Ginny? She's probably at the office, you know."  
  
"Actually, I'm looking for Rayven," he replied, "Is she at work?"  
  
"No, she's in the kitchen. You're telling me you Apparated all the way over here to talk to my WIFE?! Why-" Ron's question was cut off as Draco turned and swept out of the room toward the kitchen. He was wearing a traveling cloak, Ron realized with a frown.  
  
"Rayven!" Draco called dramatically as he burst into the Weasley's kitchen.  
  
"Draco!" she exclaimed in surprise, dropping a bottle which she hastily picked up and returned to the refrigerator, practically stuttering, "No! That's not sugar-free, fat-free, cholesterol-free...What brings you here?"  
  
"I want to talk about Angel," he replied, sitting down at the table. Rayven followed his example, smiling.  
  
"I'm sure she's fine," she said soothingly. "I know she has a boyfriend, but you shouldn't be so protective of her!"  
  
"Not that Angel," Draco replied, waving her comments away, "Angel Pentser."  
  
"Oh," Rayven replied, her entire face changing. "Well...?"  
  
Draco took a deep breath, knowing she was going to think he was crazy, then plunged into his deductions. She listened silently, her eyes fixed on his face. There were a few moments of silence when he had finished.  
  
"Voldemort's daughter..." she finally echoed, sounding dazed.  
  
"I know it's crazy, but-" Draco began desperately.  
  
"No!" Rayven held a hand to silence him, "No...it actually answers many questions...it makes sense, doesn't it? I mean...I had known her since we were eleven and she was never allowed to mention her father...and she lived with a magical foster family, Death Eaters...but the summer after fourth year she spent all this time away and she wouldn't tell me where she had gone..."  
  
"That's the summer he returned," Draco murmured.  
  
"Yes," she replied, almost to herself. "Yes..."  
  
"Shall I call a meeting?" Draco asked.  
  
"You get Ginny, Dumbledore, and that crowd. Ron and I will get Harry and Hermione," she instructed. He nodded and Apparated. Anyone else might have panicked with the sudden knowledge that their late best friend was Voldemort's daughter, but Rayven Michaels Weasley kept a cool head. She had not spent several years as a Death Eater for nothing.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Time passed. The adults admitted the logic in Draco's thoughts and decided that for the moment they tentatively placed the new Dark Lord's identity on Angel Pentser's child. The problem was, they had never even known Angel had HAD a child. Severus had admitted that a simple potion could have completely hidden her pregnancy as long as she was cautious. So precious time slipped away as they tried desperately to locate the heir.  
  
They say time heals all things. Grace wanted to find "them" and ask them if time would heal the killing curse she was about to send hurtling in "their" direction. How wrong "they" were.  
  
Spring was making an appearance at Hogwarts. March was waning, the winds were warmer, and the days were longer. Grace felt it all weighing down on her chest, suffocating her slowly.  
  
She was killing almost every night now. Tom's approach seemed to be kill as many possible enemies as possible before the Ministry could organize itself. Several of the larger attacks were foiled by Grace's intervention. This did nothing to ease her guilt. She was carrying the secret to his ultimate destruction and there was NOTHING she could do about it.   
  
She tried not to think to hard, but it was impossible. She couldn't concentrate on schoolwork at all, and for good reason. She was bound to get a good lecture over the holidays about NEWTs, but she didn't care. She didn't care about anything anymore.  
  
She needed to end this. Thoughts and realizations flashed through her mind. And she admitted defeat. She, Grace Cora Weasley, Gryffindor, Ministry spy in the Innercircle of Death Eaters, daughter of Ron and Rayven Weasley, she was admitting defeat. She was going to tell Bill to arrest her. Azkaban was the only place she would be safe from his wrath.  
  
But she couldn't go until she had found a way to depart with her information of Voldemort's identity.  
  
The thought plagued her day and night. She tried writing and singing and even oblique symbolism in poetry, and no one ever had any idea what she was talking about. Grace would have found herself frustrated to the point of tears if she had had any left to cry.  
  
And it was in this state one could find her, slumped in an armchair in the corner of the deserted common room on a bright Saturday afternoon at the end of March while everyone else was off at Hogsmeade. Her mind was whirling and her time was running out. She needed a solution quickly.  
  
Perhaps some sort of sign language, she thought miserably and without much conviction. She had tried the obvious...namely flailing her arms madly to get attention. She wound up reporting something ridiculous and claiming her arms had needed exercise. Obviously Voldemort had taken everything into consideration.   
  
She buried her face in her hands, trying to clear her mind. She needed a cool head, a calm reasoning. She needed to think like Severus would if he were in her place. What would Severus do? Severus...  
  
Grace leapt up to her feet. Of COURSE! Severus! What was it that Voldemort had said, exactly? "My identity cannot be revealed to one without my Mark." One without the Dark Mark could not know Voldemort's identity...but one WITH the Mark could, and then Severus could tell Bill and then...she would be free!  
  
She screamed with pure joy and twirled in a circle, her arms outstretched in ecstasy. Freedom! No more Voldemort or Bill or murder or...of course, she would be in prison for a few months, but what was a few months in jail when the rest of her life would be free!   
  
She ran from the common room, much to the Fat Lady's annoyance. "Where d'you think you're going, lass?" she demanded sternly. Grace laughed in response, laughing for the first time since January. She turned and ran through the halls, nearly mauling a few first years.   
  
She suddenly got a vision of the first years huddled at the end of a hall, clinging to each other in fear as she rolled the head of the stature of Gregory of the Smarmy at them, imitating the Muggle "bowling" her grandfather had taught her years ago. She grinned.   
  
Or not.  
  
Despite the fact that she was running it took her a while to get all the way to the dungeons. She burst in without warning to find Severus at his desk as usual, muttering over an essay. He looked up at her with his customary glare.  
  
"And what has you in such a confounded good mood this afternoon?" he asked in his usual surly tones.  
  
"I know who Voldemort is!" she chirped, then practically squealed in pleasure when she realized she really WOULD be able to tell him everything.  
  
"What?" he demanded, his eyes widened. He gestured for her to sit down. She wasn't entirely stupid, of course. She shut the door and whispered a silencing charm first.  
  
"Now," Severus said carefully. "What do you mean you know who he is?"  
  
"The body he's using!" she exclaimed. "There aren't any Slytherins lurking around are there?"  
  
"No," he replied. "How long have you known?"  
  
"Ages," she replied. "He put a spell on us so that we couldn't tell anyone without the Mark...but you HAVE the Mark, which took me FOREVER to remember..."  
  
"So?" he demanded, his voice dripping with curiosity and anxiety.  
  
"Lord Voldemort is," she paused dramatically. "Tom Flint."  
  
Dead silence.  
  
"Tom Flint," he finally echoed. Grace bit her lip, suddenly remembering that he was one of Severus's favorite students. "As in, the Head Boy here?"  
  
"Yes," she replied. "You have no idea how horrible its been...he's dating Angel you know and especially after he...well, its been hard," she muttered, her cheeks red. All her joy had evaporated, leaving her more deflated than ever.  
  
"You're sure?" he demanded, and her temper flared.  
  
"Of course I'm sure!" she snapped. "I've seen him with my very own eyes several times, Severus! Why would I lie about something like this?!"  
  
"Calm down," he snapped, "I never said I didn't believe you. Just making sure, that's all."  
  
"Well?" she demanded. "What are you going to do about it?"  
  
"Inform Dumbledore and the Minister and his council, naturally," he replied. He then smiled. "This means we can have him before many more lives are taken. Grace, you've just saved the world!"  
  
"Er...yeah, I guess so," she muttered, blushing. She'd never thought of it as anything more than a way to get out of being a spy.  
  
"Well, I'd better go owl several people," he said, beginning to spy.   
  
"Wait!" she cried, causing him to sit down once again and pierce her with a searching gaze. "I...I need a favor," she muttered.  
  
"We owe you one," he replied. "What is it?"  
  
She closed her eyes for a moment to compose herself. Now that the moment was here, she almost couldn't go through with it. It would mean, for a short while, being completely cut off from all those she loved and being hated by those people.  
  
"I want...I want to be arrested," she finally whispered.  
  
"What?" he replied blankly. She struggled with tears.  
  
"I know I should stick it out until the bitter end," she blubbered, "But I just can't handle it any more. I need to be somewhere safe, and the place HE can't reach me is Azkaban and I know its cowardly and I should be better than fear but I'm not and I just really, really, really can't do this anymore," she managed to say before bursting into sobs.  
  
"Grace," he said, putting and awkward hand on her slumped shoulder and leaning across the desk. "You are in no way cowardly. What you have done for the last six months-facing Voldemort alone-shows more bravery than anything I've ever seen."  
  
"God, who pays you to say that bull shit?" she muttered, but her tears slowed and stopped and she felt better. He smiled wryly at her.  
  
"Dumbledore," he replied. "But its true. And Grace," he added as she stood to leave. She looked at him expectantly. "Can we tell your parents what you did after we arrest you?"  
  
"You'd better," she smiled, "The prison walls can protect me from Dad's fury too. He's going to completely lose it."  
  
"I'll be ready," he promised. She smiled, feeling better than she had in months, and returned to the common room to pack all her things neatly to be shipped home while she was in Azkaban while Severus sent out several owls, still slightly shocked the Tom Flint was Angel Pentser's son.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The black expanse was as engulfing as ever. Tom didn't care. He was NOT going to resolve himself to an eternity of nothing. He struggled and fought, swearing and shouting until his voice was raw. He found one of the walls and rammed into again...again... again...  
  
THERE! A tiny crack gave him a glimpse of the outside world. He seized the opportunity, tearing the wall and finding himself in the Slytherin common room. He gave a yelp with joy and ran up to his room, ignoring the startled look from one lonely-looking second year.  
  
He could feel the other one-the one who had taken his willpower and his body-struggling in the back of his mind. Tom knew he couldn't fight the other one much longer, so he went as quickly as possible, his fingers shaking as he found a quill and parchment just where he had left them. He pause for a moment when he saw the calendar.  
  
March 27...MARCH?! He had been locked away in that...that box for eight months? The anger gave him a rush of power, and he was able to write a quick letter and fight the other one at the same time. Angel. She would know what to do.   
  
He sent the owl requesting that she meet him in the Astronomy Tower that evening during dinner, and then sat down for the two-hour wait. He spent some of it in his rightful place, and some in the box in his mind. He grinned. He had broken down the wall now, and it would take the other one some time to repair it.  
  
And it that time, he came to realize who exactly had been possessing him. And he came to realize what he had to do.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A few people had filed in and out of the common room, but when the bell rang for dinner Grace was completely alone again. She sighed, torn between relief and fear, watching sun begin to sink just out her window.  
  
"Grace?" a familiar voice interrupted her blessed solitude. She jumped and swore under her breath. It was James.  
  
She closed her eyes, repressing more swear words. This was the first time she had been alone with James since he last kissed her, and she preferred it that way. Maybe, in another dimension, she would still want him to want her. She still loved him, just as she always had. She would have never called it love in the past, but after these months in the Dark Lord's service hadn't quenched her feelings, she knew it for what it was. But the love was tainted, twisted, and ruined, just like everything else in her life. She loved James still, but as a result she wanted him to fall head over heels for someone else, get married, and have a huge happy family so she could see him happy.   
  
"Hello, James," she managed to say in friendly tones.  
  
"Aren't you hungry?" he asked. She shrugged.  
  
"Aren't you?"  
  
"Not really," he replied, and an awkward silence descended on them. Grace bit her lip, annoyed. She hated awkward silences.  
  
"Where's Angel?" she asked suddenly, still trying to play the bright, happy friend.  
  
"Oh, she's up at the Astronomy Tower with Flint," James replied, making a face. Grace's eyes widened.  
  
Angel was alone with...He could kill her, and plant a suicide note and no one would ever know. Or he could torture her ruthlessly for information from her mother. Or put her under Imperious. Or...  
  
That's it, Grace thought angrily, if I'm going down, I'm going down in style. He is NOT going to ruin Angel like he's ruined me, she vowed. Without giving James a second glance she set a determined pace toward the portrait hole. He grabbed her wrist as she passed.  
  
"Where are you going?" he demanded. She narrowed her eyes at him. He was wasting precious time.  
  
"To dinner, alright? What's your problem, James?"  
  
"My problem?" he echoed incredulously. "MY problem? Listen to yourself Grace! You've been acting strangely all year and you're asking about MY problem? What is wrong, Gold? Why won't you tell me anything?"  
  
"Its none of your business!" she exclaimed, twisting her wrist and pulling away. He grabbed her upper arm, trying to hold her back and get answers. He looked down for something more solid to hold, and Grace felt spinning of the world around her come to a screeching halt, her breath gone from her lungs, her heart stopped, and her blood frozen in her veins. In the struggle the sleeve of her robes had been pushed up and now her Dark Mark was grinning up at James's disbelieving eyes.  
  
He let go in shock. She turned and fled, tears welling in her eyes as she set a collision course for the Astronomy Tower. It would be really easy to arrest her now.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Tom?" Angel asked cautiously, looking around for her boyfriend. His letter had been decidedly odd, as if he'd been distracted when he wrote it. Not much could distract Tom Flint when he set his mind to something.  
  
"Angel!" he cried, and she jumped as he appeared, even more worried when she took in his appearance. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were dazed.  
  
"Tom, what is it?" she asked, alarmed. He put his hands on her shoulders, his chocolate eyes boring into her silver ones.  
  
"Angel, I know this sounds crazy, and I know you don't understand, but I need you to push me off the tower."  
  
"WHAT?!" she screeched, unable to believe her ears.  
  
"Listen!" he cried, taking her hand as she tried to pull away. "I know it sounds crazy, but there are things happening and I..."  
  
He suddenly lost the glazed look and the familiar, easy smile slipped into place. "Am I talking like a maniac?" he asked suddenly in his normal voice.  
  
"YES!" she screeched in panic.  
  
"Calm down, sweetheart," he said, placing a soothing hand in hers. "I took in some iffy potions fumes this afternoon and its having this weird effect on me where I start talking about killing myself."  
  
"Oh, good," she whispered, closing her eyes in relief.   
  
"You won't let me fall, will you Angel?" he asked, leaning in for a kiss.   
  
"Of course not," she whispered.  
  
"NO!" he cried suddenly, pulling away, the dazed look returning. "Angel, don't listen to him. He's not ME! Don't you see? You have to kill me so HE will die to! Angel, please, I would jump off myself but he won't let me! PLEASE! You have to push me off!"  
  
"Shh, Tom, its just the potion fumes, remember?" she asked, her voice calm and competent. "Don't be crazy, I won't kill you, I promised."  
  
"No..." he whispered. Tom closed his eyes. It wasn't Voldemort that defeated him. It was Angel, her disbelief, her belief in Voldemort's words. "Angel..." he managed to whisper before he felt Voldemort shove him ruthlessly into the back of his mind, trapped again.  
  
"There," Tom said, and Angel smiled when she saw he had returned to normal. "I'm fine, now, I think."  
  
"That's good," Angel replied, reaching up to kiss him when they heard the door open. Their heads snapped to the entrance. Angel felt her temper rise when she saw Grace coming in, looking as if she were about to spit fire. Couldn't she just get over it!  
  
"Leave your fucking hands off her, Flint!" she screamed. Tom smirked.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"What news is so urgent that I left my dinner half cooked to hear it, Severus," Rayven demanded once everyone had arrived. They were in the dungeons during the students' dinner at Severus's insistence.   
  
"I've found Voldemort," Severus replied. This caught everyone's attention immediately.  
  
"How?" Harry demanded.  
  
"Who?" Ginny asked, because one look at Severus told her exactly 'how'. There was no need to disclose that information just yet.  
  
"You're not going to like it," he replied.  
  
"There's no need to be dramatic," Draco said quietly. Severus nodded.  
  
"Thomas Flint," he said briskly.  
  
"The Head Boy?" Hermione demanded, sounding appalled.  
  
"Why not?!" Draco replied hotly. "I was Head Boy and a Death Eater at the same time. Tom Riddle was Head Boy!"  
  
"We need a plan of action," Dumbledore said, taking charge. "If your absolutely sure...?" Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes searched the Potions Master.  
  
"Absolutely," Severus replied.   
  
"Not yet, Headmaster," Harry interrupted, his emerald eyes furious. "I'm not stupid, Snape...Ginny. I've let it slide until now, but this is a serious move and I want to know who your spy is before we continue."  
  
"Spy?" Hermione echoed. "But Ginny...you wouldn't reinstate the Circle without us, would you?"  
  
"Who said anything about a Circle?" Ginny demanded.   
  
"That's exactly what I mean!" Harry exclaimed angrily. "We ask for necessary, valuable information and you counter with a question. I won't have it! Tell me which spy gave you this information before we bet everything on it!"  
  
"Which spy?" Severus replied softly. "There's only one, Minister. And this one spy came to us, not the other way around, and offered to join Voldemort's ranks on the one condition that we didn't tell you."  
  
"Me personally?" Harry asked sarcastically.  
  
"Yes," Severus replied, ignoring the sarcasm. "You. By name."  
  
"Ginny, you have to tell us," Draco said pointedly. "Harry's right. It would be foolish to waste out entire effort if-"  
  
"Silence," Dumbledore instructed, and just in time. The door flew open and James Potter ran in, his hair all over the place and his eyes wild.  
  
"What is it, Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore demanded.   
  
"It's Grace!" he cried. "Professor, she's a Death Eater!"  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"I wouldn't speak in that tone of voice if I were you," Tom said quietly. Angel looked at him in surprise. He let go of her entirely, approaching her cousin in a slow, almost serpentine way she had never seen before.  
  
"I think you would," she snapped defiantly. Her Occlumency level was nothing, but it seemed he wasn't trying to read into her mind. She stood completely still, almost halfway in the room, as he approached her. He stopped inches away, his eyes racking her as if she were on display for sale.  
  
"You are very beautiful, Grace Weasley," he whispered, leaning in so that his breath tickled her ear. She forced herself not to move, and he smirked. "And very, very foolish."  
  
She realized to late that he already knew.  
  
"Angel, run!" she cried, ducking away. Tom pulled out his wand and aimed it at Angel, petrifying her in place with Locomotar Mortis. He laughed as Grace pulled out her own wand.  
  
"You Weasleys are so very stupid," he said. "You keep trying to kill me. Can't you see I can't die?"  
  
"You arrogant asshole!" she screamed, raising her wand.  
  
"Easy there," he said, clearly enjoying himself. "Let's this a proper duel. We'll bow first...no? Okay then, one...two...THREE! Crucio!"  
  
"Finite Incatatum!" Grace cried, ducking the Cruciatus Curse and releasing Angel. "Go for help!" she cried as she avoided the curse again.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"What?" Rayven whispered, and James realized a moment too late that the Weasleys, Malfoys, and his parents were present. He looked at Dumbledore expectantly, waiting for something to happen. His eyes raked the room. He saw Ginny heave a great sigh and Snape close his eyes. Ron looked livid.  
  
"GRACE?!" he screamed suddenly, standing and nearly knocking down the table, glaring at Snape. "MY DAUGHTER IS YOUR SPY?!"  
  
"Ron, please sit down," Ginny pleaded.  
  
"And you knew!" he continued, rounding on his sister. "You LET my only child become a Death Eater!"  
  
"Ron, she volunteered. As a matter of fact she demanded to become a spy. I told her no, but she refused to take no for an answer. She even wrote an essay, I have it around somewhere, entitled "Why I Want to Become a Death Eater"."  
  
"This can't be happening," Rayven whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. "My baby...my only baby..."  
  
"Professor, what's going on?" James asked, confused.  
  
"I cannot BELIEVE this. How long, Ginny? How long has she been doing this?"  
  
"She was Initiated Halloween night," Ginny replied quietly. "She's been saving our asses for months, Ron! Who do you think warned us about his plans to attack the school?"  
  
"Grace is a spy, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore explained calmly, ignoring the screaming match behind him. "She's been a Death Eater for several months, reporting her activities to the Department of Mysteries."  
  
"What?" James muttered, dazed.  
  
"I just...I need a drink," Ron finally said, sitting down and burying his face in his hands.   
  
"Now that she's revealed his identity there is no need for her to continue," Severus explained. "She asked me just this morning if someone could arrest her."  
  
"She asked...if someone..." Rayven stuttered, her eyes wide.   
  
"Azkaban is the only place she is safe until he is dead," Severus replied. "And I promised her I would see to it that she made it there. Obviously Mr. Potter here saw her Dark Mark, so we have a witness and we can send her to prison immediately."  
  
"Ron, I...I'm so sorry," Harry was muttering, looking stunned. "I never would have thought..."  
  
"I wouldn't have either," Ron replied, his eyes furious.  
  
"Wait," Draco said, speaking for the first time. They all heard it...running footsteps. "More bad news, I'm sure," Draco said.  
  
"As if it could get much worse," Ron added darkly as Angel Malfoy came hurtling into the room. Ginny felt her heart stop...her own children had been blessedly removed from all this until...  
  
Her heart stopped. Tom Flint. Angel's boyfriend.  
  
Tears were streaming down her face, and she was mumbling incoherently. Dumbledore took her shoulders, speaking calmly and soothingly in an effort to make some sense out of what was going on.  
  
"And he said it was fumes...but after that he said something to Grace and then he-"  
  
"Who's he?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"Tom!" she cried. "Grace and Tom are dueling."  
  
Severus closed his eyes. He had had the most time to digest all the information, so he was the first to realize the importance of what Angel had just said. Ron was next.   
  
"Why the hell are we all just standing here while my daughter is dueling with Voldemort?!" he cried.  
  
"Where are they?" Dumbledore asked, still calm, ignoring everything around him.  
  
"Voldemort?" Angel echoed. "What does Uncle Ron mean?"  
  
"Miss Malfoy, where are Tom and Grace?" he asked again.   
  
"They're in the Astronomy Tower," she replied. "What's going on?"  
  
"Stay here," he instructed. "Come," he gestured to the adults, setting a swift pace which the others immediately followed. James suddenly put everything together and felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. He tried to follow them but Angel stopped him.  
  
"James, what is going on?" she whispered, as if he were the last chance of retaining her sanity.  
  
"Grace is a Death Eater," he explained.  
  
"What?" she cried, snapping into reality with this news.  
  
"She's a spy for the Ministry," James replied. "When Voldemort returned...it was just his spirit, I think. And he possessed Tom Flint."  
  
"Tom...James, that's my boyfriend!" Angel cried in disgust.  
  
"What happened up there, Angel?" he asked, gritting his teeth in frustration. "Grace's life may depend on it."  
  
"It was like he was two different people. He was Tom, but the he was this crazy, dazed Tom that begged me to push him off the Tower-"  
  
"That must be the real Tom," James said. "He wanted to die and kill Voldemort with him."  
  
"He...Oh God, James, I just left Grace alone with him!"   
  
"It's not too late," James said, his jaw set with determination. "It seems that you may have the ability to get the real Tom out. If you can do that, only for a moment, I can do something-"  
  
"Like what?" she demanded, completely focused now that there was a plan. "My boyfriend is in there somewhere."  
  
"Something easy," he replied. "Impedimenta will be fine. Just something to stop him while he's unaware. Dumbledore will be able to do something after that."  
  
"Well, let's get there before they do something stupid," she replied, and the two friends set off at a sprint.  
  
Even at a sprint it more time passed than James liked by the time they arrived at the foot of the stairs to the Astronomy Tower where the adults were arguing in low voices.   
  
"What are you doing here?" Hermione demanded when the two teenagers arrived. "Dumbledore told you to stay behind."  
  
"We have a plan," James explained.  
  
"No you do not," Draco interrupted, his cold gaze on his daughter. "You are not to go anywhere near there."  
  
"But-" Angel began.  
  
"No buts," he replied.   
  
"Now Draco, listen to yourself," Severus cut in. "Are we all that narrowminded? Has it occurred to anyone that when we were spies we were teenagers, and Grace is also of that age? Even Tom, the real person behind Voldemort's possession, is only seventeen. The real Tom Flint may respond to-"  
  
"Exactly what we were planning," James interrupted, and he ran up the stairs with Angel on his heels before they could be stopped. The adults followed, naturally, Severus and Dumbledore in the lead with Grace's parents just behind.  
  
James had to clench his fists to prevent himself from running into the room when they could finally see the battle. Grace's hair was everywhere, she was shaking and seemed to be on the verge of collapse. Tom was laughing. They watched as Tom held both wands aloft.  
  
"It seems this duel is over," he commented conversationally. She glowered at him.  
  
"So what are you waiting for?" she demanded. Tom took his aim...and hesitated.  
  
Angel pounced on the opportunity.  
  
"Tom," she whispered, and his eyes turned to her, the wand still steadily pointed at Grace's chest. Her eyes widened, and she tried to tell Angel to leave, for her own sake.   
  
"Tom, it's me, Angel," she said, taking a few shaky steps forward. "I know you're in there Tom. Come out and talk to me."  
  
"You foolish child," Tom sneered at her, but she was undeterred.  
  
"Tom," she said again, her voice louder. "Tom, where are you? I know you're in there."  
  
"STOP IT!" Voldemort cried, and the wand twitched. James prayed as he had never prayed before.  
  
"Tom," she called again, her voice soothing and defiant at the same time. "Tom, I want to talk to you? Tom, Tom Flint! I love you, Tom!"   
  
There was a moment of silence, and Angel saw a change in Tom's eyes.  
  
"Angel," the man whispered, his voice amazed.   
  
"IMPEDIMENTA!" James cried, stopping him long enough for Dumbledore to come up and stun him strongly enough not to kill him, but to keep even Voldemort from waking.  
  
"Grace..." James whispered, looking at the only girl he had ever loved as she watched her Master be bound and taken by Dumbledore. He tried to speak again, but Snape swept by him, enveloping her.  
  
"It's okay," the Potions Master said soothingly, as James, Ron, and Rayven stood by awkward. "It's over. It's over, Grace."  
  
"No it's not," she whispered, and fainted.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Grace was taken to the hospital wing and left in the charge of her Uncle Charlie. The students had been sent to their dorms, the Heads of Houses watching the common rooms. Professor Vector had taken over the Slytherins.  
  
Meanwhile, Tom Flint's form was transported to Dumbledore's office and everyone except Grace who had participated in the final, dramatic scene followed him there. Snape, Dumbledore and McGonagall had been working on a way to extract Voldemort's soul without damaging the person he was possessing. Once exocised from Tom's body it would be returned to the Dagger of Certain Death, unable to leave again because there were no other heirs to possess.  
  
Angel held his hand through the process, tears trickling down her cheek. It took several hours, but in the end he sat up and kissed her, right then and there with everyone watching, crying as well.  
  
After a few attempts at interrogation it became obvious that Tom remembered almost none of Voldemort's activities. He was shocked to discover that Grace had been a Death Eater. Severus explained that this was normal. It would probably take years for Tom to regain all the memories, but when he did they would be invaluable.  
  
Tom's exorcism was still taking place when Grace woke up. She thought she was completely alone for a moment before noticing her uncle.  
  
"You're awake," he said, smiling broadly in relief. "I didn't know what was going on, but I heard you're a hero."  
  
"I am?" she echoed. It took her a few minutes to piece together her memories and realize what had happened. When she finally did she turned suddenly and grabbed her uncle's hands. "Uncle Charlie, you have to get me out of here!"  
  
"What?" he asked, frowning, "What do you mean, leave?"  
  
"I have to leave Hogwarts," she babbled. "I need some money, please!"  
  
"Grace, what's going on?" he asked, alarmed when he saw tears welling in his niece's eyes. She finally forced herself to speak.  
  
"I'm pregnant."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Once Tom was awake and himself, everyone wanted to see Grace. James was practically twitching with impatience by the time they finally got into the hospital wing. When they arrived they found Charlie Weasley sitting by an empty bed, rolling his wand between his fingers thoughtfully.   
  
"Where's Grace?" Ron demanded. Charlie looked up, sadness evident in his face.  
  
"She's gone, Ron," he replied.  
  
"What do you mean, gone?" Rayven demanded. James felt his stomach drop. "She's not..."  
  
"Not dead," Charlie replied. "She's not dead. She's just gone."   
  
"What do you mean?" Snape demanded in a low voice that barely concealed his impatience. Charlie looked at him thoughtfully, then raised his wand, pointing it at himself.  
  
"Where is my daughter?!"  
  
"What's going on!  
  
"Charlie's the only one who knows!"  
  
"Charlie, don't!"  
  
Charlie looked at them sadly before uttering the word that cut Grace from her family forever.  
  
"Obliviate!" 


	10. Epilogue

A/N: *sniff* I can't believe its really over! But never fear, the sequel is on its way!   
  
Coming soon to a computer near you: "Turning Back", the last story in the Emperor's   
  
Dagger Trilogy. Hope to see you there.  
  
And now for the promised (and much deserved) thank yous!  
  
Huge thanks to:  
  
Serpantina Malfoy (who has an AWESOME name! ^_~)  
  
KHT  
  
Leuca  
  
Lily  
  
SuziBeAn  
  
Lily Lupin the first  
  
Mei Leng  
  
Wanda  
  
Airlian  
  
Lily82  
  
Lelattha  
  
Sakura Lupin  
  
Idria  
  
Bean3  
  
NotSure  
  
Much love, thanks, and chocolate frogs to these fabulous people who reviewed several   
  
times:  
  
Star Gazer17  
  
Brooke Kenobi  
  
SilverPhoenixWings (I love you so much chica! Thanks for being an awesome friend!)  
  
K-da-great  
  
Just_a_girl_56  
  
Chocolate and roses and a Nimbus 2000 for those special and much-loved reviewers who   
  
really support me and help me be a better writer:  
  
---Shadow Phantom: Hey girl! You have always been one of my best reviewers. Thank   
  
you so much for your feedback! It really helps me to stay with it. Much love!  
  
---Shadow Graffiti: I love you. Seriously. Did you know you were my very first reviewer   
  
for this story? You encourage me so much, reminding me to keep at it and stick with it. A   
  
very serious thank you and a very hyper happy dance!  
  
---Britz: Honey, I know you haven't reviewed this, technically, but ff.net hated you   
  
forever and you emailed about it, so it's the same thing! You are a wonderful reader and   
  
an even more wonderful friend. I love you!!! REALLY!!!!!!! Thanks for being there for   
  
me, for more than just fanfiction….*wink*  
  
THIS STORY IS DEDICATED TO STAR*DUST AND SIERRA CHARM!!!!!  
  
~~~Star*dust: If it weren't for you this story would be nowhere. Period. End sentence.   
  
Seriously, think about all the stuff you've helped me with, all the times we've imed or   
  
even *gasp! The horror!* Talked on the phone (or in person, for that matter) about this   
  
story and many, many others? You keep my writing alive, and I just want to thank you   
  
for doing that! *gives unwanted hug…oh just get over it!*  
  
~~~Sierra Charm: Darling! How do I love thee? Let me count the ways…can't count that   
  
high! Same goes for you as with s*d, without you guys this story, as well as all my others   
  
(and there are enough, aren't there?) would be nowhere. (well…there might still be a   
  
trillion alternate endings…but we won't get into that right now.) THANK YOU SO   
  
MUCH for everything. Love you a million times over!  
  
*Sniffles* Well, this is it, folks! See you in the sequel….  
  
Epilogue:  
  
New Beginnings  
  
Several people glared at the young woman as they left. She glared back. It wasn't her   
  
fault if the infant had cried as the plane landed.  
  
The child was beautiful. Anyone would agree, even the disgruntled passengers who had   
  
to listen to him scream. His soft tufts of hair were a shimmering auburn and his eyes were   
  
a deep, warm brown that reminded one of chocolate. The boy was wrapped in a meager   
  
blanket, betraying his mother's financial status.   
  
His mother was also beautiful. And young…young enough for many older matrons to tut   
  
disapprovingly. The mother didn't care. They didn't matter in the scheme of things. But   
  
her son mattered.   
  
The airport was huge. It took her several minutes to get oriented. Her first stop was a   
  
restroom. She waited until everyone was gone. She didn't take even a moment to bask in   
  
the solitude she loved. She carefully placed her son on the counter, securing him in the   
  
blanket.  
  
Reaching into her carry on bag, she pulled out a long, thin stick of wood. She looked at it   
  
for a moment, remembering. Then she took one end in her left hand and one in her right,   
  
closed her eyes and gritted her teeth.  
  
And snapped it.  
  
The child began to wail at the top of his lungs. She picked him up and whispered   
  
soothing words, then tossed the two uneven halves of the stick in the waste basket just as   
  
another lady entered, scowling at the howling infant and its much-too-young mother. The   
  
child continued to wail as its mother carried it out of the airport and into New York City   
  
to begin a new life.  
  
The child's name was Charlie. His mother's name was Grace. They were beginning a life   
  
that would require them to run for evil for the rest of time. Grace had left her family,   
  
never turning back.   
  
And she never intended to return. 


End file.
